


Ink Parchment Quill

by Inks_Prophecy, wxntxr_chxld



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A FIC THAT WILL MAKE SENSE, A Helping Hand, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Azor Ahai, BAMF Arya Stark, BAMF Daenerys Targaryen, BAMF Jon Snow, BAMF Lyanna Stark, Balance vs Annihilation, Blood Magic, Conciliation, Daenerys is Jon's little sister, Dragon Riders, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Howland runs interference, Ice Dragon, Jon Snow is Aegon, Jon goes to Nights Watch but does not swear vows, Jon has a twin, Lightbringers, Lyanna Stark Lives, Maester Conspiracy, Magic Portals, Multi, Nissa Nissa - Freeform, Old Gods intervene, Pact of Ice and Fire, Philosophy, Polygamy, Prophecy, Rhaegar Lives, Robert is the King, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The North Forgot, The North Needs to Remember, The Throne is a Distraction, Three Heads Has the Dragon, Valyria, Visions, Wargs, Weirwoods, Women with Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2020-01-01 04:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 303,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inks_Prophecy/pseuds/Inks_Prophecy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wxntxr_chxld/pseuds/wxntxr_chxld
Summary: The Old Gods have been patient. Watching and testing infinite possibilities, but finally they have decided to make their move.Calling on a young Crannogman with the great potential, he is summoned to the Isle of Faces to witness what will become the creation of the most important song yet to be sung.The Song of Ice and Fire.It is common knowledge that those who do not learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them. Keeping this in mind, the gods task the young man with providing many helpful nudges in the right direction, careful not to throw the entire story off balance.After all, destiny will happen whether you actively work toward it or not. That is why it is destiny.Edits to first 4 chapters or so. . .





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, and Im nervous. I wanted to write the first 120k words before publication, but it turns out that proofreading it gets a bit tricky at such a length, so now that I am happy with the format Ive decided that it is time to share what I have with all of you.  
> This is a canon divergent fic, it will not be all happy feels. But I am committed to making the most of the tools that the books have provided us. For that reason, prepare yourself for further development of Warging abilities, greenseeing, dragon dreams, Magic etc.  
> There is nothing worse in my opinion than having all of these tools at ones disposal when writing, yet failing to fully expand upon them. For this reason, prepare yourselves.  
> I consider myself an ASOIAF expert on some level.  
> I write and develop fan theories, I podcast, and I YouTube all ASOIAF. Though, I do not credit myself as a know it all, I certainly have my books and my reference material right beside me as I write.  
> For that reason, most of the material I use will be based on the books. I may however blend show material where necessary, though I cant think of a reason I would need to.  
> I will be using the names/identities of known characters to build on pre-asoiaf characters.  
> Because this fiction is canon divergent, I do not own anything! 
> 
> For the Record, I am content with the work George R R Martin does, but I can hardly wait on the next book. For that reason, I write to fulfill the emptiness I feel in my soul every day when I wake to find that Winds is still not out.  
> This story will only follow bits and pieces of the original ASOIAF outline, and will mostly not have the same body or ending to the original work.
> 
> This is going to be a long one, so buckle up. This may be broken into two parts, but Im not sure yet. But be prepared for over 500k words.  
> This story will be done when it is finished writing itself, therefore I have no clue on approximate chapter count or word count. Only that I expect it to be quite the read. 
> 
> Please, leave your feedback.

**280 AC**  
  
**The Three-Eyed Raven**  
  
  


_The Past is written, the ink is dry. . . what is the point of being able to witness the journey of humanity if we are unable to aide in the ultimate outcome?_  
  
“Who said that you can not aide in the outcome?” the Singer asked.  
  
  “The past is written, the ink is dry.” he parroted back to the Singer.  
  
   “Indeed it is, but the future is a multitude of variables. Have you seen what you need to see?” the Singer asked.  
  
   “I have seen much and more, and as you say, I see a multitude of variables.”  
  
   “That is good, then you understand that a helping hand can be given, but destiny will always be destiny. Destiny however does not need be a tragedy, is this something you can aide in?”  
  
  He thought about it. _If_ _I_ _look_ _back_ _I_ _am_ _lost_. The only path is forward. . . it hadn’t worked in his last attempts and now he understood why. Start the story in the correct place, and then push it gently in the correct direction. He sat back and took hold of the roots around him. He needed too look forward again, he needed to see this story play out once more so that he can choose the correct place to begin the story.

 The visions came upon him as sudden as a storm. . .  
  
  _Dragons rule the skies over a city built of Black stone, fourteen fiery peaks crown the area surrounding the city. A silver haired girl stands before a man “father, we must go. . . The fourteen flames will swallow Valyria and all who live within it's cradle,”  A black castle stands out against a smoking volcano, the towers and keep sculpted into dragons… A silver haired youth standing in a tower over a table shaped like a continent. “The great war is coming, and Westeros needs our Dragons, if we do not save Westeros from itself, there will be no hope for the rest of the world. I've seen it in the flames, and Daenys wrote about it too. I don't want to be their king, Rhaenys. I have to, We all have to. It's our destiny to do so, I have seen the three headed dragon defeat the darkness and bring the dawn. I have seen Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar battling against the army of the dead. This is why our family survived the Doom, can't you see. The only dragonriders left in the world. . .”   Two dragons, the Silver one mourning the Bronze, two winged shadows battle over the Gods Eye, The water stained red, before it begins to be pulled into the island center, Seven eggs placed on seven pyres, Green flame and a silver babe with Indigo eyes, A winter storm and the piercing cry of a baby girl with eyes of Valyrian Steel, A falling Star, and a blade as pale as milkglass, A quiet direwolf mourning the loss of the moon, a crowned stag, a mad lion, Dragons returning to the smoking sea, A gate of Ice and a gate of fire… and in the Center of them both, A weirwood larger than any other in the world._

The Three-Eyed Raven opened his eyes.  
  
 I know what must be done. . .  
  
“That is very good, then we should prepare, for the gods have a part to play in this as well. This will be the last time. The powers are awakened, and there is no going back.”  
  
 He nodded in acknowledgement, he would need the crannogman, the boys father. His role will be bigger this time, his hand more transparent and with the right help from the gods, we can get this thing right… He gathered his thoughts and sent them south. . .

 

South. . .

* * *

  
**The Crannogman**

  
  
  
 It was just before winter when the call started. _‘South’_ , it called.

 

 _South?_  
  
  Typically the idea of traveling south would seem ridiculous but the young crannogman could not deny the pull. It started as a small thought, but as the days passed by he became convinced that it was the Old Gods who were calling to him.

  It took some convincing to allow the journey, but he had always been more bold than the rest of his kin. He had mastered the magics of the crannog, and he would be lord in his own right soon enough. If he were going to complete this quest it would have to be now, lest it never be done at all.

  And as the days passed by he busied himself with his preparations, mostly though, he spent his time before the Heart Tree listening, waiting. If the Gods needed him, he would answer their call, but that did not mean he would do so blindly. However, no man, even one such as Howland Reed can demand answers, so he would wait, for as little or as long as the gods demanded.

 It had been about a fortnight in before he got his first clue. A scent . . . lingering on the wind. Crisp, like a cold winter day, but sweet, not too sweet though, just enough to cut through the bitterness lying just beneath. Subtly just below the surface there was also brimstone and ash. _Interesting . . . not unfamiliar, not common either._ He filed this away, it would come later. Perhaps he could motivate the gods for more clarity.

  Howland removed himself from the Godswood and made for his chambers. It took him a moment to find what he had been looking for, but once he had it he was off again, back in the direction of the Heart Tree. He knew now why things had been taking so long.

  Kneeling before the tree, he pulled a bronze blade from his belt. An heirloom passed down from father to son since the pact between the Children and the First Men. Holding it out before him he placed the sharpened edge across his palm and drew the blade across the soft flesh. After a moment he placed his bloodied palm in the mouth of the face carved into the tree offering it as sacrifice to the Old Gods. “Help me serve,” he whispered to no one but the wind.

  And that night the Old Gods finally spoke to him in his dreams. Pictures flashed by sometimes accompanied by sound sometimes not.

  _The gods eye flashed before him first summer then winter then spring and then winter again. The Isle of Faces, a silver dragon hatching in green fire, a winter rose in a storm, a fierce she-wolf, a three-eyed-crow, falling stars, a wolf with no sound howling southward to a night sky tinted by dawn’s first light, a knight of the old gods, a mad dragon spitting green flame, a land covered in Snow, dragons returning to a smoking sea, a man hard at work in a forge with a look of doom on his brow, whispers, death of dragons, wolves, wolves, wolves… wolves with wings and wolves without, a red comet, a blue comet and a piercing melody that lingered in the distance, one both new and ancient, of times passed and yet to come. Of ice and of Fire._

   Indeed, it would seem that there is not a moment to waste, the time is now he must go. Getting out of bed, he gathered his frog spear, his daggers and his bow. At the last moment, he retrieved his blade and made way for his boat. It would be a long journey, but if he used the songs of his people he should be able to convince the land to help him along his way. And with that, the crannogman was off.

* * *

 

**A Season With the Gods**

 

  The Journey was long, as expected but he managed to sail past the Twins under the cover of night. He sung the whole way south, keeping the river moving at a steady pace. Once he reached the trident it was all on foot, so he would have to be careful. But he knew where he was, and it would not be much longer before he was back in the water and rowing toward the Isle of Faces. He used the natural shadows to blend in, singing his songs around himself to help him move more swiftly. He would sleep in the longest part of the day high up in the canopy of the largest tree he could find, and move quietly and quickly once the sun started to wane.

  On the fifth day just before dusk, he reached the waters of the Gods Eye and threw himself into his boat and set off to finally start his quest. He would not reach the banks of the Isle until morning so he set into his task, preparing himself for what was to come.

  The Isle was like nothing he could have dreamed or imagined. Indeed, even if the gods themself had planted this image in his head he still would not have been able to digest it all. There were no spoken words to describe what was before him. It was more than images, sounds, or even scents. It was all of it, and none of it. The trees themselves were both familiar and foreign in ways that one such as he would have never considered. The Isle had this feeling about it. Like you were everywhere and nowhere, like you were here, but you weren't. In fact, the only time I feel like I'm actually here is when I'm in the center. Making a mental note of the logistics of the isle, the northern side of the Isle felt more cold, and the south-eastern side of the isle is much more hot. _Odd, I'll file that away for another day, this is not the only place on the Isle that feels different._

  He had been on the Isle a day and a night when the snow began to fall, not heavily but it was enough to make its intentions known. Winter has come and Howland would remain here on the Isle to see it through its course. The next morning came soon enough and with it the first sign that he was not alone. Had he not been studying the tree he was sleeping in front of the night before he would not have noticed the subtle change. Just beyond the tree, among some of the foliage Howland spotted a pair of green eyes, not unlike his own but somehow nothing like his. Then he noticed a set of horns that he could have easily mistook for fallen weirwood branches. _The Greenmen? Could it be true?_ He mused to himself before finally speaking.

“Hello,” he called out before even thinking about it. _Well what’s done is done i suppose, I may as well see this through_ , he thought to himself as he watched his ‘guest’ _or am I the guest?_ He wondered, nevertheless... “My name is Howland Reed of the Crannogmen, The gods have called me here. I'm here to serve, do you know where I must begin?”

It felt like an eternity before it finally spoke, and when it did it sounded like the words of a song long forgotten by his people. It was like bells and thunder, the song of winged beasts and great wolves it was every sound he had ever heard, and again no sound yet uttered it was indescribable. “Root, you may call me Root. And we have been expecting you. Please follow, there is much to do and little time to do it.” the voice seemed to be saying in his head. So follow he did.

 

He made his way through the wood, through brush and the occasional low lying branch and down a slow incline. Moving in silence the whole time. It made no sense to inquire about his mission, he would know soon enough. _‘Words are wind’_ he thought to himself. It's not in the saying, it's in the doing, spoken words mean nothing without the conviction to see the words through. So he followed.

They continued on in silence for what seemed like an eternity but in reality it had been mere moments before they arrived at an opening set into the ground just beneath the roots of the largest Weirwood Howland had ever seen.

The air around the tree was thick and humming with energy, the leaves singing in a breeze that touched no other tree on the isle, and the face, there was something different about it. Just when he thought he knew it, it would change again. This tree was . . . _more._ There was no other way to put it. Never had he ever felt the gods as strongly as he did in this moment. So without hesitation he proceeded forward, and into the unknown. . .


	2. The Wolf Pack

**Rickard I**  -  **The Alph** **a Wolf**

  
  He had not always been so invested in business such as this, but when his Lady wife left them he promised that he would make sure that their little she-pup would fulfill her destiny. It was after she left that the Maester began to point out the benefits of making southern alliances, to aide the North and help see us through winter. But Rickard’s motivations were different than that of Maester Walys. Indeed, he wanted to strengthen their standing, but not for political reasons. Nay. Winter is Coming, and Rickard knew it.

  His wife had been telling him this ever since the day Lya had come howling into the world. Dreams began to plague her. Dreams of Ice and dreams of fire, and of a pact to join the two. It had been nearly one-hundred-forty years since the pact had been sealed, with no attempt at fulfillment. The Pact called for a daughter of dragon blood, but there were none. So Rickard had decided that he would join the blood of the Direwolf with the blood of the Dragon in another way. Lyanna would wed the Stag with any luck, and hopefully that would be enough.

  It has to be. This is her destiny, the first She-wolf born of our house since before the Conquest of dragons. Heralded by a winters storm, with eyes like Ice. She grows stronger every time the seasons change again. It won't be long before she realizes she holds influence over the element.

  There is still time for Lya, she is still just a girl, but she won't be a girl for long and I promised you Lyarra. I'll make sure she’s alright. I'll make sure the pact is fulfilled.

 

* * *

 

 

**The She-Wolf and the Young Pup**

 

  As suspected Howland remained on the Isle with the green men throughout the duration of the winter. Days and nights bleeding together without a second thought.

 

  Howland sat in his place sometimes deep in concentration, listening to the songs long forgotten by his people, long forgotten in the north. And when he wasn’t learning the new songs and the ones forgotten he was deep in meditation. Watching and learning, listening, and weaving. When the tapestry was finished, Howland knew it was time to leave. Destiny was approaching and this song was waiting to be sung.

  The snow had gone, and the warm rays of the sun were filtering through the canopy of the trees by the time Howland placed his canoe into the water at the edge of the isle. He couldn’t say he felt secure in his task, for his task was larger than he’d believed when he set off on his quest a year ago. He was afraid for what was at risk, but that just made him more determined to see it through.

   He had been rowing about an hour when he started to notice the different banners adorning the twisted black stone towers of a nearby castle. Another three hours before he could hear the noise coming from the grounds. And by early evening he was pulling his canoe from the waters of the Gods Eye before setting off toward the castle that was nestled just north-east of the shore.

  _Harrenhal…_  
  
  First things first, he thought to no one in particular I need to present myself to House Stark.

  Setting off toward the camping grounds, Howland ducked between one tent, and then another, following the long row of tents that had already been set up. After a few moments, he got the general idea of where he needed to go.

  Each territory had been assigned space based on which geographical location their house was a part of. By this logic, once he passed through the camps of the Crownlands and the Riverlands, he should without fail run straight into the camp of his fellow northmen.

  Just as he rounded the next bend however, he was set upon by three boys of his own age who he failed to notice. “Look what we found boys,” one of them taunted.

  “Oh Gods,” Howland silently muttered under his own breath. Perhaps if I keep my head down and keep walking they will just leave me be. He sent a silent prayer to aid him and keep him safe and continued along his path.

  “Go back to your bog you freak! No one invited you!” the three continued to taunt him. For a minute he considered turning back but had no choice but to keep along his path. There is no way they would allow me back to the lake. And sure enough, just as he was about to push on he was grabbed roughly by his tunic and shoved to the ground.

  _Oh no . . . this is not the plan. Oh no . . . there’s no time for this!_ He thought to himself. _This distraction will not do. Think. . . How do I get out of this situation. . ._

  He was a man grown to be sure, but even still, he knew he was no match for these three boys, and no matter how many times he tried to rise and defend himself they would all set upon him again without mercy.

  Howland was just about to curl into himself and accept defeat when he heard a commanding yet feminine voice howl at the three who were attacking him. “That's my father's man your kicking!” And before he even knew what had happened, she had set upon them with a dull tourney sword, smacking one in the back and kicking another before rounding on the third one with the point to his neck. Without a second thought the three boys took off at lightning speed.

  When she turned back around it was to a bruised and bloodied Howland Reed. She extended her palm out to him and he took it without even stopping to consider her offer. “My name is Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Lord Rickard. Are you well my Lord? I hear this castle has a splendid godswood, I can get my brothers to sacrifice them to the gods if you’d like.” she said with a wolfish grin. But something about it made him wonder just how serious she actually was.

  “Thank you My Lady, Howland, Howland Reed . . . I was sure they were about to kill me. If you hadn’t shown when you did. . . I owe you a debt for-...” he tried to finish but was interrupted by his savior.

  “Nonsense! I won't hear another word about it. And I'm not a Lady. Just Lyanna is fine if it please you. Reed did you say? As in House Reed of Greywater Watch?” she enquired.

  “That very same house,” he responds.

  “Well, at the very least I did not lie to those idiots!” she proclaimed with a wicked grin. He was not sure what that was supposed to mean, and apparently it shown on his face for she supplied an explanation without prompting.“You really are my father's bannerman.” And just like that she had her next question lined up. “If you don't mind, what brings you to the tourney? I have never seen a crannogmen so far from the Neck, never mind this far south of the Neck. I would think that Tourneys hold no appeal to your people.”

  He thought on the best way to respond for a moment or two before finally giving an answer. “I came to witness the birth of a song, and the completion of a pact.” and that was all he offered.

  Off in the distance a crow cawed in acknowledgement.

  That night there was to be a feast in the great hall hosting all of the lords and their knights of the Seven Kingdoms. And the she-wolf insisted he attend. “You’ve as much right as any of them to be there! Nay, I insist, you will come and dine by my brother’s and mine own side this night. We are a pack and you are one of us. Benjen will help you find something suitable to wear. You both are of the same build I should think.” and with that the she-wolf was off to ready herself, leaving Howland and the young pup to their task.

  He could not help but ask the young lad . . . “Is she always so commanding?” he enquired of the pup. Genuinely interested, for he knew he needed to see the wolves, but he was not expecting . . . well he was not really quite sure what to expect, but the thread from the tapestry seemed to pulse around that one, and the quiet one too.

  “Lyanna? Well, the short answer is, yes. Father says she and Bran have a touch of the wolf blood, but Lya is special in a way Brandon isn't. See from what I was told, Lya was born at the end of winter in a sudden storm that took us by surprise. My mother had been in the Godswood praying as she was like to do, when it came upon her. My Brothers say that it took only hours for the ground to be covered in a thick blanket of snow and it did not let up until after Lya came howling into the world the next morning. . .” he paused and then went on, “Sometimes I think they made it all up, but it would certainly explain the storm she brings with her, should someone cross her kin or her loved ones. She is fierce, my father said she gets that from our mother. He said if mother had her way she would have run off to become a wildling, and sometimes I think the same of Lyanna,” the boy continued.

  “Benjen, that storm happened.” was all Howland could say as he processed that bit of information. And then he thought about it, “Would it be so bad to live with the wildlings? What was their crime anyway?” Interested in knowing the young pups thoughts.

  “Well, I suppose the crime is when they come into our kingdom and break our laws and steal or harm our people. But I suppose we are equally as responsible for not making our laws clear to them. I can't speak for the rest of the north, and I can't speak for history either. I was not there, you know? But I'm sure there is a reason that things are the way that they are.” and then as an afterthought he tacked on, “It's not perfect I’ll admit, I've often wondered why we built a wall to keep out other people. When we allow them to enter from the other direction. It's not really well thought out if you ask me.” he finally supplied. Then suddenly his face lit up, “So you’re saying that the storm really did happen?” The boy must have just realized what he had said about the storm.

  After a moment, he responded. “If it was about fifteen years ago, then yes. It was the oddest thing, my father said it was a sign from the gods. I remember spending the entire night in the godswood before the heart tree with him. We had heard that Lord Rickard welcomed a daughter though we did not know any of these details as I'm sure you can probably understand.” Before he could say anything else he heard voices coming from outside the tent.

  “That will be Ned and Bran, are you ready?” Benjen asked.

  Howland glanced down at himself once more before giving a reluctant nod.

  Benjen gave a sly grin and said “Come on! It will be fun, just wait.” and with that they set off to join up with the rest of the pack.

  As they set off for the Great Hall, Howland sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods that he was on the right path...


	3. The Raven's Agent

  
  The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was unlike anything Howland had ever seen before. Tables were set up in rows throughout the hall, with a long table up toward the front of the room where the royals were expected to sit, though from what he could make out, they had yet to arrive.

  As they made their way through the rows toward their own table, Howland took some time to memorize the faces of those in attendance. No matter what happened at this tourney, Howland was certain that this information would be important later on.

  The atmosphere itself was pleasant enough, all the ladies in attendance wore their brightest smiles, while all of the Lords and Knights in attendance went on and on about which contests they would be taking part in. There was even some talk that the crown prince Rhaegar would be entering the joust.

  Just as they were arriving at their assigned table, the herald announced the royal party, including the king himself who hadn’t left the Red Keep since Duskendale. And, up until now, Howland had only heard whispers about the state of the king. To the surprise of Howland, the rest of the crowd looked just as shocked to see the king as he had. He even heard others whispering about how no one expected the king would even attend.

  Most of the night passed in such a fashion, when people weren't gossiping about women, and fighting, they were commenting on the state of the king. All save for the Starks that he was dining with that is.

  “Howland, do you see them?” Lyanna spoke low enough for only him to hear, and when he looked up, he saw her motioning toward three knights across the hall. It didn't take him long to see what she was referring to. The three knights in question were represented by three sigils that Howland had acquainted himself with earlier in the day. House Haigh, House Blount, and House Frey. “You should avenge yourself Howland, teach them not to mess with northmen,” said Brandon. And before he could supply why that was a terrible idea, Lyanna quickly invited her brother Ned to weigh in. By the end of the discussion, however, they had come no closer to figuring out how. Benjen offered to supply him with the proper armor and a horse to challenge them, but in the end, Howland had no choice but to decline.

  “We sit a boat more often than a horse, and our hands are made for oars, not lances.” For as much as he wished to have his vengeance, he feared he would only make a fool of himself and shame his people.

 

* * *

  **The Fury of the Stag**

 Something felt off. Ever since Ned went home last year for his visit and to deliver his offer of marriage to his father, he had been different. Before, whenever he would bring up Lyanna his friend would entertain his inquiries, but now it seemed as if it were a chore to him. He couldn't even enjoy the company of a tavern wench in the past months without Ned’s judging eye upon him. 

  
   He had not been openly hostile toward him, in fact it was clear that his relationship with Ned was as strong as ever, but Robert could not help but think that Ned was not as comfortable with his betrothal to Lyanna as he had been led to believe prior to his trip North.  
  
   _Lyanna… what a beauty._

  
  He had seen the portrait that Ned carried on many occasions, though it was done a few years ago, it had been clear that she would be lovely. He had not expected the creature before him however. She bore little resemblance of the image he had thought to memorize though. Her eyes were the same, but her face had slimmed down, and her hair was not worn the same.  She was small, but not delicately so. Though he was certain he could wrap both his hands comfortably around her waist. She appeared to be strong, and full of vitality. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were rimmed by thick dark lashes. Her lips were full and pouty, a beautiful shade of rose red. But he found his gaze being drawn down her frame.  
  
  She entered the hall on the arm of her eldest brother Brandon, and followed by Ned. Behind Ned Robert assumed was his younger brother Benjen, who walked with another lad who was of the same build, though he wasn't sure who the boy was. It mattered not, his eyes were drawn toward Lyanna. . . _his betrothed._ Or soon to be betrothed if he had any say in it. She would be his, and Ned would be his brother, as he should have been.  
  
  Once the king opens the feast and the music starts he would ask her for a dance, he decided. Once the lords see her on my arm, it should be easy enough to stake my claim on her. She would fall for him the same as all the others had, all he needed was a chance to woo her. Any lady would be honored to call herself the future Lady of Storms End. He thought to himself smugly.

* * *

**The Raven's Agent**

  
  It was some time later that the Storm Lord asked the she-wolf to dance and he could not help but notice her cringe before agreeing. He watched the young pup as he listened to a man of the Night’s Watch speak to the men about joining their order. And he also noticed the quiet-wolf stare longingly at a maid with haunting violet eyes. The eldest one, Brandon spent most of his evening laughing and drinking with his men. When the song ended he found Lyanna back at his side with a grimace still plastered on her face.

  “I swear Ned I don't understand why you thought that HE was a good fit for me. I do not like him Ned, I will not have this I swear this to you. I am not some delicate flower to be holed up in some tower waiting on her Lord husband to grace her with his presence. I will not be some broodmare Ned!” Lyanna exclaimed in a voice low enough not to cause a stir.

  “Lyanna, could you not just give him a chance? I know that things are...,” he swallowed dropping his voice, “different, ever since the offer was made, but until there's more to know-” Ned allowed the thought to carry as he was cut off by the she-wolf.

  “If you like the man so much Ned you can bloody well marry him in my stead, you and I both know that is what he really wants anyway!” she cut back at him.  
“Do you love me so little Ned that you would put my happiness second to him?

  “Lya..” Ned stammered. But The she-wolf cut him off again.

  “Don't answer that, we will continue this conversation at another time.” Just then Brandon approached.

  “So Ned, do you want to tell me who it is you have been watching all night? Or shall I start taking guesses? Brandon said as he leaned down to look at Ned with a raised brow. The quiet one just blushed and looked to his feet before Benjen pointed toward the beauty that Ned had been eying.

  “The one with the purple eyes and the dark hair, he can't take his eyes off her.” Benjen teased.

  Glancing across the room to where Ben had pointed Brandon’s eyebrows raised and then he said, “Ah, Ashara Dayne, sister to Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning. Good one Ned. If your going to aim, it may as well be for the stars,” he teased. “So, are you going to ask her to dance, because if not I hope you don't mind if I do.”And he didn't wait for Ned to reply before marching off in her direction.

  Everyone at the table stared on in shock and in wonder as the quiet one watched his confident older brother approach the mysterious Ashara and ask her to dance. And to Ned’s horror she accepted without so much as a second thought and a smile that cast starlight across the hall. But just as Ned gave up his hope, and was about to turn away, Brandon approached with the Lady Ashara on his arm, and introduced her to the table.

  After introductions were made, the Lady turned to Ned who still hadn’t said anything other than a ‘My Lady,’ when she greeted him, and said “Pardon My Lord Eddard, but I was curious if there was something you were hoping to ask me, or am I mistaken? For I could not help but to notice our eyes meet on more than one occasion this evening.”

  It was clear to all at the table, that whatever the quiet one thought she were going to say, that was not it. “Pardon me, My Lady, um. . .” Ned stammered “I, uh,” he tried to continue. . . but she stopped him before he could with a kind smile, and a twinkle in her eyes.

   “My Lord, if you don't mind my boldness, would you like to dance with me?” she supplied as a way to rescue him from himself.

   “It would be an honor and a pleasure, My Lady.” Ned accepted and offered his arm as they made their way to the floor.

  Once he was out of ear shot, the entire table aside from himself burst out in laughter, but Howland could not help but to think about an image from before his quest of the wolf with no sound howling southward to a night sky tinted by dawn’s first light . . . that and the thread that is twining itself around their destiny.

  A crow cawed in the distance.

   Just then the hall went quiet as an announcement was made. “My Lords and Ladies, honored guests, it is the pleasure of House Whent to host this Grand Tournament in honor of my youngest daughter’s sixteenth nameday. It is with great esteem that we welcome the Crown Prince Rhaegar who has asked to honor this occasion with a song, so please, all, welcome our prince,” and with that he backed away from the dais and gave the floor to the silver prince.

   Everyone knew the prince had a special affinity for his high harp, this was not the first time he played it in public, nevertheless the hall fell silent while he sat down and began to pluck slowly at the strings of his silver harp. The song was none Howland was familiar with for he had never before heard the words, but the music had magic in it, he could feel it. And he was not the only one, for he looked over to gauge the reactions of the rest of the table just in time to see the she-wolf wiping a tear from her eye. And apparently this action was not lost on the young pup either.

   “Oh gods! Lya are you crying?” The pup howled. “You are. Gods Lya who would have thought you a weeping maid.”

  “Shut up! Stupid...” and with that the she-wolf upended her cup over the head of her pack mate and made for the doors leading to the terrace. Howland had only a moment to take note of the ink mark on her left wrist of a blue direwolf not dissimilar to the one of her house. He had never seen one before so he asked.

   “Benjen, what’s with the direwolf on your Lady sisters wrist? Does she do that often? Does it have a special meaning for her?”

   “Wolf? Oh, that, well no one really knows what it’s about. She never had it until she did, but it's not ink, it just showed up last year. She said it came with winter, as did her marriage proposal to Robert Baratheon shortly after.” said the young pup.

   “Interesting,” was all Howland could think to reply.

 Outside, a crow croaked in agreement.


	4. Lyanna I

**280 AC**  


  “Winter is here,” she said with a sigh as she brought news to her father of the white raven that had just arrived from the citadel. She knew though, underneath her sigh her father could hear how happy the news truly made her. For she had been going on and on about it for weeks now, pestering maester Walys every chance she got on whether it had arrived yet.

 _‘And what makes you think winter is here little lady?’_ he asked her every time. And every time her answer was the same.

_‘Because I know, winter is a part of me, and you know this maester.’_

  And sure enough, with the raven came the first snow, and something else too.

  Just as she did every winter, she made her way to the rabbit houses and picked one. Tucking it into her arms she made her way through the outer yard, and toward the Godswood. No one bothered to enquire after her. Just like her lady mother, it had not been uncommon for a sacrifice to the gods, least of all in winter.

  She made her way through the gates and through the ancient Ash and Sentinels toward the center of the wood and toward the massive heart tree that has stood a silent watch over the halls of her ancestors since the days of Brandon the Builder.

  Every season Lyanna made her way here to the Old Gods to make an offering. Praying for a short winter and the safety of her pack and of her people. And of course, there was also something extra added in for Ned. Ever since Father sent him off to the Eyrie, Lyanna had been sure to pray for him, because he could not. This she knew, why father thought sending Ned to a place without a heart tree still puzzled her.

  Pulling out the blade that once belonged to her mother, Lyanna whispered her thoughts to the gods and then slid the edge of her blade along the soft flesh of the rabbits underbelly. She placed the dagger down and reached her hands in grabbing fist fulls of its innards and spreading them along the lower laying branches. She left the body for the animals, always giving back, for _‘it is we who serve the gods’._

  She settled in beneath the branches as she was like to do more often than not, feeling no need to rush back. Benjen would come along after her soon enough anyway. As she sat there listening to the wind rustle the leaves of the canopy, a crow cawed in the distance sending shivers up her spine. Moments later she felt a searing pain coming from her left wrist. She jumped as though she had been burned, but when she looked to see what the issue was, there was nothing. Shaking her head, she decided to go inside, suddenly she felt very cold.

  At the evening meal she hardly touched her food, too distracted by the burning in her wrist. When her father asked what was weighing on her mind, she could do naught but smile at him, and tell him all would be well. Truthfully, with the burning also came a pain in her gut like none she had ever felt before. Standing, she asked her lord father leave, and retired to her chambers.

  Later that night she dreamed of _ice blue eyes, a stag hunting a wolf, of Fire and of Ice, dancing together, but never canceling the other out. She dreamt of a silver dragon alone in the darkness, and a crown of Winter roses._ When she woke the next morning, the burning was gone, and in its place was what appeared to be an ink mark of a blue direwolf similar to the image on their sigil. And something else too. . . Her moon blood.

She had known this day would come, sooner rather than later, much to her own displeasure.. Even so, now that it had come Lyanna couldn’t help but feel a sudden sense of doom.

Up until now, her lord father has been endulgent of her willful nature, her wolfs blood he would tell her. He never forced her needlepoint lessons on her, or forbade her from riding her horse Winter astride. He never forbade her joining the hunt with Bran, or minded when she dressed in britches rather than dresses whenever his bannermen were in attendance. But all that had changed the day Old Nan told him that she had flowered. And all at once her world shifted off its axis, and it hasn’t stopped spinning since. Not that this was the first proposal for her hand. The biggest issue Lyanna could see here is her father. Up until now, he had never so much as entertained one. Stating simply that she was not yet a woman and until such a time, all offers will be dismissed.

The news arrived in the hands of her dearest brother Ned, who had come home from the Vale on a visit. Of course she had known he was going to be coming home, but never in her wildest dreams had she thought that it would be under circumstances such as these.

Of her three brothers, Ned had always been a place of refuge for her. She had no need of a tough exterior in his presence, nor did she have to keep up the perpetual air of indifference that was expected of a daughter of a Lord Paramount. So the moment she stepped into her father's solar to receive the news, she felt as if she had been slapped.

“Your brother Ned returned from the Vale today Lya, aren’t you going to welcome him home?” Her father started as she was sliding into her offered chair.

Meeting his gaze, she smiled and replied. “Of course father, I was just waiting for my turn, you know that I would gladly talk our dearest Ned to death, if so permitted.” She finished with a wolfish grin and a raised brow as she turned toward her elder brother. “Welcome home Neddie! I hope your trip was without incident.” Ned just met her eyes and offered a shy smile as a way of a hello.

Sitting forward, her father passed her a scroll as a way of explanation and then went on. “He came with something we think you should take a look at.”

Leaning forward Lyanna reached for the scroll, but she knew something was off. Lyanna knew, whatever it was in this scroll, it did not bode well for her.

And sure enough, Ned picked up on the panicked look on her face and started trying to explain. “Lya, it’s a good offer, and I know he’ll be kind to you. He told me that he loves you and that he will treat you like a queen. You should think about it,” But she was still staring at the parchment in her hands.

“It’s a marriage offer from Robert Baratheon,” she said aloud, and to no one in particular. And wouldn’t you know it, without skipping a beat maester Walys took the opportunity to impress upon her father how “unlikely it was that another offer, a more generous one at that,” would be presented to him in favor of a match for Lya.

One would think that he would have chosen a better time to voice his opinions on the matter until after she had excused herself. Alas he did not, so she would not feel guilty for what she said in response.

“I won’t do it father, I don’t care who he is, or what offer he makes. I refuse to wed this man. How can he love me? The man has never met me! I’m not a game piece to be played when the time is right. I’m your daughter, and you promised me that you wouldn’t force me!” She looked to Ned. “I am sure, dearest brother, that you delivered this offer with the best of intentions, but based on this,” she gestured, holding up the scroll. “It’s clear, the Ned whom I call brother and the Ned who rode through the gates no more than an hour ago to deliver this…” she spat, “are not one and the same. For my brother would have never promised something that was not his to give.”

“Lya…” Ned tried to explain, but she continued.

“Gods, Ned. Have you even read this ridiculous offer, just who does he think he’s bargaining for? Because the woman he is building this fantasy around does not exist.” She finally finished.

“That’s enough Lyanna! You will apologize to your brother. He did nothing but deliver the scroll, you are out of line.” Her father commanded of her.

“No, father, it’s fine. I knew she would be less than pleased. Let’s just take a few days, like you suggested, and then we can talk it over and go from there.” Ned said before shooting an abashed look back at Lya. But it was lost on her, she could not simply let this go. First her body betrayed her, and now Ned.

 

“Regardless of your thoughts and opinions on the matter, you have a duty to this house, and you will do your part. So, you will take this time, and then we will speak about it in a day or so. Now, leave me.”

Standing abruptly she glanced around the room. “As you say, please excuse me lord father, I shall like to go pray.” She hardly waited for her father before she flew from the room and made for the Godswood.

A crow watched her go from it's perch just outside the window. . .


	5. Rhaegar I

**280 AC**

 

  The Prince of Dragonstone was busy in his solar with his face buried in some ancient scroll or another when there was a knock at his door. “Enter,” he called out without looking up from his reading. In the doorway stood his closest friend, Ser Arthur.

 

  “My Prince,” Arthur called.

 

  Rhaegar looked up at the sound of Arthur’s voice. “What is it Arthur, is everything well with Elia and the babe?” he could see the small frown on his friends face. The whole situation had never been ideal for them. Rhaegar knew that it was hard for Arthur to stand guard outside their forced marriage bed. He had known since before he and Elia said their vows before the High Septon that her heart belonged to Arthur, and Arthur’s to her. But their was little he could do to convince his father to call it off. He had been convinced that Tywin would plot to make Cersei his wife, and he was determined to thwart him no matter the cost. And now, just weeks after giving birth to their first daughter, he was forced to watch his best friend worry himself sick over the woman whom he loved.

 

  The birth had proven difficult for her, and the maesters said that she needed to remain abed. They said that baring more children in the future could prove fatal for her, and highly stressed the need for her to remain bed bound for the foreseeable future. And Rhaegar felt like the worst kind of person in the Seven Kingdoms for putting her at risk, all because it was commanded of him by his father. He knew he would have to plan a trip to King’s Landing soon. He would have to present Rhaenys, before his father started entertaining thoughts that he was plotting treason with his newly born daughter. _Soon father, soon you won't be able to torment us anymore. I will see to it._

 

  “All is well with the Princess’s My Prince. It's something else,” he paused. “A raven arrived My Prince, a white one, from the citadel. Winter is here.” Arthur replied. At that, Rhaegar could not help but give a small smile. _Indeed it is_ , he thought to himself.

 

  “Is there anything else?” Rhaegar asked after a moment. Ser Arthur simply shook his head.

  “Very well, I thank you for the news.” Arthur nodded his head in acknowledgement of his dismissal and closed the door behind him.

  It had been quiet on Dragonstone over the past few weeks. Not only did the news of Elia’s weakened constitution weigh on them, it also didn't bode well for the prophecy. Which meant that Rhaegar found himself basically sleeping in his solar so he could continue his research. Something was wrong, he knew it.

_The promised prince will be born amidst salt and smoke, to wake dragons from stone. . . tears and fire? Fire and blood?_

_Prophecy is like a treacherous woman. . ._ his mother would tell him. Well treachery is just another word for misdirection. So how is this prophecy misdirecting him? This is the question that had him sitting in this spot the past three days. Perception. He needed to work out his own perception of the prophecy and then work against it. He knew that this would be the only way to see all the possible angles. . .

  Rhaegar had figured out a while ago that there were two prophecies he needed to work through, the first was of the promised prince. And the other was Azor Ahai. Somewhere along the lines the two had become one, but after many conversations with his great-grand uncle Aemon he realized that one of them is much older than the other.

It occurred to him then, if it were so easy to blend two different prophecies together, it is also possible that key words may have also been used ambiguously. . . salt and smoke.

_If Smoke represents fire, what does Salt represent? Tears, sea water? Or has salt been confused with a like substance? Perhaps snow?_

  And suddenly it made so much sense. Smoke was fire, but salt was Snow, or Ice. _Fire and Ice. . . Ice and Fire. Balance! Of course it's balance!_ He was unsure how long he sat there puzzling out what it all ment, but without cause or warning his left wrist began to burn. At first he found himself subconsciously rubbing at his wrist to alleviate the sensation, but it quickly became too much of a distraction, so he pulled the sleeve of his tunic back to have a look at it, but was shocked to see that there was nothing there.

  Focusing again, he went back to the prophecy. If It called for Ice and Fire, for balance, then the biggest issue is, there is no Ice aspect of his marriage with Elia, she is the Sun, and he is the Dragon. Theirs was a marriage of Fire. A marriage of fire. . . Rhaegar let his quill drop.

  His father had acted too soon. He needed a union of Ice. _But how will that help me now?_ It was times such as these that Rhaegar hated not having the power to overturn his father’s decrees. Poor Elia deserved more than this. _I swear I will see to it that she lives a comfortable life, I swear she will never want for anything once my father is deposed._ He could not take back the past year of their life, nor the hurtful things my father has said or done against her, _but I can see to it that no one can keep her and Arthur apart once I sit the throne. It is the very least I can do._

  That night, he fell asleep at his desk once again, still thinking heavily on the revelation of Ice in place of Salt, and he dreams the strangest dreams.

 _A fiery sword, and eyes like Valyrian steel, of Ice and of Fire, dancing together, but never canceling out the other. A blue rose blossoming in a winter storm. And a fierce she-wolf who stood guard of it. The last image he saw was a laughing weirwood._  
  When he woke the next day, the first thing he noticed was the burning in his wrist had all but gone away, so he decided to check to see if it looked any different. And to his amazement there was a silver dragon taking wing _inked_ onto his wrist in the exact spot that he had felt the burning. And even though it no longer felt as though his wrist was on fire, he could still feel heat radiating from the mark.

  He rubbed at the mark, to make sure it was not some kind of prank Oswell or Arthur tried to play on him while he slept. Though for the life of him, he could not understand what satisfaction they would get from marking him in such a way. But he was quickly convinced of their innocence. The mark was subcutaneous. There was no way to wash it from his skin, or remove it in any way.

  Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, something tugged at his memory. _I’ve read about this somewhere, I swear I have. . ._ Realizing that something huge had just occurred, Rhaegar stood from his desk and made way for his chambers. He had much work to do, and letters to write in the next days. And after that was saw to, he would set off to present Rhaenys to his father. Hopefully by the time they returned, he would have some more answers.  
But first, he decided, _I shall clean up before I check in on Elia and the babe, and then I will train with Arthur. After that, I will take care of the letters and all the rest of it._

  The next few days were spent deep in his library looking over old texts on ancient lore regarding magical marks and the like. One account claimed that those who bare such a mark are referred to as _‘Touched by the God’s’_ and yet another text referred to it as an _‘Ink Mark’_ but there was little information to go by. Of what he found, one thing was clear, these accounts all boast that these are omens from the Old Gods, or Gifts granted by the gods of the First Men. This is what Rhaegar struggled with the most though.

  _Why would he have a mark given by the gods of the North?_ He’d never had any affection for the gods, not even the Seven that his forefathers married into when they conquered Westeros.

  At this, he decided that it was time to present this case to his great grand-uncle Aemon. If anyone had more information on this subject, it would be him. As he penned his missive, he took special care to give as much detail as possible, from the way it felt, when it started to burn, all the way down to his dream, the shape, and color of the mark, location of it, and even the fact that it emits heat all on it's own. _No detail is too small,_ he told himself. He also included his revelation in regards to the Ice portion of the prophecy. Thinking he may be able to lend him some insight. The fact that this mark is linked to the Old Gods had not been lost on him. First he realizes that the prophecy requires balance between Ice and Fire, which Rhaegar now knew he had yet to obtain. But then the Old Gods of the North go and mark him?

  _How can I not help but see the link between the Old Gods and my Ice requirement._

  Following that rabbit hole, Rhaegar quickly found himself thinking that the King’s of Winter had taken to the faith of the Children of the Forest after they signed their pact on the Isle of Faces.

  Just like that Rhaegar knew there was a place he needed to see. And once winter is over, he will have the means to do so he realized. It's time to finalize those plans for the great council, and the Grand Tourney at Harrenhal. Quickly, he finishes his letter to his uncle Aemon, and calls for a servant to bring it to the rookery to be sent off immediately.

  With a final thought, he decided to have a request sent to the citadel, requesting any documented history on the Northern territories, and the Houses. For any written record on Northern Lore, and any documentation on the ancestry of the great houses of the north. Rhaegar had a sneaking suspicion that there is something going on in the north, that they have hidden from the world. And he was determined to figure it out.

Outside, a raven cawed in encouragement.


	6. Lyanna II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter happens in the same timeline as the previous two.

  After retreating from her father's solar, she made her way to her chambers to get her cloak before setting off for the heart tree. _I don't care what father says, I will run off before I allow the maester to sell me off to some southern lord just to appease his ambitions. Gods!_ She could do naught but wonder when House Stark became obsessed with the politics of the south. But she knew. . . Everything that was different in Winterfell these days all centered around maester Walys. Including the betrothal between Bran and Lady Catelyn. She sometimes wondered if the maester was plotting against their gods too.

  On the way through the yard, she passed Benjen, who was busy with his sword training. She wanted to stop and talk, but she couldn't. She was too angry, and standing still would do little to calm her, so she merely waved and continued on way through the yard, past the armory and on toward her place of refuge.

  The godswood was like a world in itself, functioning separately from the rest of the world. As soon as she stepped through the gate that was the boundary between the gods and the castle, the world went quiet, but for the quiet breeze that always greeted her, and the creatures who had made this wood their own. She found her way through the trees touching a random trunk as she passed, hoping that they would help to ground her. She was soaring at present, and not in the best of ways.

  She went straight to the heart tree, and knelt before it, pulling her dagger from her boot. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts and focus her intentions, when she was sure of her intent, she sliced the blade across the flesh of her palm letting her blood well up, before placing her hand on the tree. _Please show me the path you intend for me. Give my pack the strength to make it through whatever is yet to come._

  Behind her she heard the rustle of leaves, and she sighed before turning to see Ned kneel beside her and pull his own dagger from his belt, to make his own offering to the gods. They sat in silence for a time before she finally decided to talk.

  “Does he know anything about me?” she asked him as a way to open the path for conversation. Ned was never one to push, and she loved him for that. For as quick and violent her storms come and go, the god’s surely had gifted Ned with the ability to weather them. _‘Your very own Night’s Watchmen,’_ father had told her once, for Ned was the light that brought the dawn for her on more than one occasion after their lady mother passed.

  “He knows how beautiful you are, he asks me all of the time. He does know that you have a special affinity with your horse, and he assures me that it's not a problem. I admit, he is unaware of your affection for sword and bow, and dare I say lance?” he asked with a raised brow and a knowing smile.

  She cringed in mock horror. “Ben?” she asked. “I know it was him, don't deny it, he can never  
keep a secret!” she tried to sound as indignant as possible while also keeping the conversation light.

  “Actually, you aren’t as sneaky as you’d like to think little sister. I found where you practice the last time I came home on a visit, and I watched you practice for a while. It was quite impressive considering you have had no formal training.” he complimented.

  Lyanna blushed, “Actually, Bran showed me some of it, and I figured out the rest, besides, most of it is all about horsemanship.” she paused and then looked up at him with a wicked smile, “and anyway, it's no secret that us northmen, us Starks in particular worship tree gods and skinchange with strange beasts. I myself am half a horse.” she finished.

  They both sat there a moment before they fell into a fit of giggles. Ned wrapped his arm about her shoulders. “What can I do Lya, to make this situation with Robert easier for you? He is a good man, he is like a brother to me, and I truly do believe he will try to make you happy.” he asked.

  Lyanna thought about it a moment. “I have questions, but I need time to think about them. You understand? Because sometimes asking the right question is more important than asking an abundance of small questions. But I would ask this of you, do not encourage this match until I have had the chance to present these questions to you,” she paused, and then pushed on. “If, by the time you are done thinking on all I have asked, you are still confident in this match, I will consent to meeting Lord Baratheon with a chaperone. But unless you are absolutely sure Ned, without hesitation or doubt, I beg you not to encourage this further.”

  After a moment, Ned took her hand back in his, and covered it with his other hand before finally saying, “I promise.” The two of them sat there in silence for a time before going back to the great keep.

 

* * *

 

  
  Once back in her chambers, she sat at her desk and wrote a letter to Ned, not holding back her feelings and fears, knowing that only her quiet brother could endure her, without taking her words personally. For she never meant to harm, only convey with truth and conviction, that which plagued her mind and her thoughts.

 

 

>   
>  _My Dearest Ned,_  
>  _I promised that I would present you with my questions and that is what I intend to do, but first I want to ensure you know that I love you dear brother, and I understand you mean well._  
>  _It is my sincerest wish to know more about this man you call brother. . . I can only assume that you speak of me based on his letter and your own words, so with that in mind these are the things I would like to know. . ._  
>  _Is Lord Baratheon aware that I am no Lady?_  
>  _Is he aware that I have no interest in court gossip, or southern politics, that I will not raise my children, if I ever consent to having any, in the way of the Seven?_  
>  _Will he accept me for who I am Ned?_  
>  _Will he nurture my nature or will he try to smother it?_  
>  _Will he set me free, or seek to chain me down?_  
>  _Does he understand that I am not a blushing maid, that I'm not swept up in lavish gifts and empty words? Because by the few words he wrote down It would appear not._  
>  _Will he remain true to his vows?_  
>  _Will he love me the way our Lord father loved our Lady mother?_  
>  _What kind of a brother is he?_  
>  _Is he kind to his younger siblings?_  
>  _Are they as close as we are to each other?_  
>  _I ask because I think you understand how important family, pack life is, and I have heard he hardly spends time with his brothers at all, and his youngest brother is just a pup, without his mother._  
>  _If he could leave his pack when they need him most, can I expect the same from him?_  
>  _Or would he somehow change for me?_  
>  _Does he understand that there is a difference between loving a person, and loving the idea of a person?_  
>  _Ned, I fear it is the idea of me that he loves. An idea you wrongly sold him._  
>  _What happened to the pack Ned?_  
>  _Have you been gone so long that you think it normal to be so far from the rest of us?_  
>  _Ned, I am Winter, whatever will I do in the south without the winter winds and our gods to shield me? I am not cross with you Ned, not truly. I only wish that you would have stopped to consider your sister when you painted this picture for your friend. For I know this to be true Ned, deep in my gut I know this is not my path. The gods have already marked me Ned, and I fear this path is not the one chosen for me._

  
She sat back in her chair to glance over the note once more to make sure she’d asked the questions that she felt were the most vital. When she was satisfied with what she had written, she stood from her desk and made her way down the hall to Ned’s chambers. She did not bother with knocking, she knew that he was with Ben or Bran, and he would not be back until after last meal. So she placed her note on his pillow and exited the room making sure to close the door tightly behind her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
  The next day Ned came to find her. She had been in the stables saddling up Winter when he found her. “Are you going into the Wolfs Wood?” he asked.

  She nodded, “Would you like to join us?”

  No response was necessary, it hardly was with Ned and her. Instead he just went to his horse’s stall and prepared his mount for their ride. Once they were a fair distance away from the castle Ned finally asked, “What did you mean when you said _‘the gods marked you'?_  
  
  She slowed down Winter to allow for them to ride side by side, and maneuvered her mount so that she was riding on Ned’s left before pulling back her wrist to reveal her _Ink_ mark.

  “Lya, when did this happen?” Ned asked. Though his tone was light and rang with genuine curiosity, there was also something else just beneath. _Nervousness? Why should Ned be nervous about mine own Ink mark?_

  “It was the day the white raven came from the citadel announcing winter. I'm not sure what happened if I’m being honest all I know is that the skin just under my wrist started to burn, but not like from a flame, it was like the burn of Ice. I was in the Godswood making winters offering when it happened. Later on I started to feel sick so I retired to my chambers for the night. And when I woke up the next day, my wolf was here, and so was my moon’s blood.” she finally finished.

  They rode a bit further before dismounting and tethering their mounts to a shaded tree. They walked on for a bit before settling down into a spot near a small stream. And then Ned turned to her and took her hands.

  “What is it Ned? Why are you looking at me like that?” she enquired with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s nothing Lya, it's just, something is going on, and I'm not sure what, but. . . I have something to tell you or show you too.” he stopped and looked around before continuing. Letting go of her hands, he reached for the sleeve on his left wrist and pulled it back to reveal an Ink mark similar to Lyanna’s. His wolf was grey, and it looked as if he was howling at the moon.

  Lyanna was shocked. She reached out and touched it. “Does yours burn too?”

  Ned looked at her puzzled, “Burn? No, I mean perhaps it did feel kind of like burning when it appeared but no, I can't say it burns now. Id say that it's just there. Though, I have no idea what it means, or why it just appeared. I didn't go to the maesters because how would I explain something that by all appearances looks like it's magical.” It wasn’t a question.

  Lyanna just nodded. "I agree, I haven't shown father yet. I have been trying to look into it on my own over the past couple of days but it's so hard to get free for any certain length of time. I've even considered going to Old Nan. Surely she of everyone would know something. She’s the oldest person in Westeros, I swear it Ned. The woman knows things that even the ‘Children’ don't know, I'm certain of it Ned.”

  Ned considered her a moment. “I honestly cannot deny this logic. If there was nothing in the library tower, short of sending for information from the citadel, Nan is the most likely to have the information that we’re seeking.”

  “Do you know what you’re going to say to father?” She decided to ask after a brief pause.

  “Well, little wolf,” he sighed, “I can not deny, you have asked some important questions. And I admit, I’ve always only ever seen the best of Robert,” he paused and then sighed deeply before continuing. “But you are right, we are a pack, and we protect our own. These questions deserve answers. And I may not be the best person to provide them. Because as you say, I see him as a brother already. I think father should have the list of questions, hmm? Maybe not the whole letter, I think some of that was for just me, correct?” He asked tentatively.

  “Aye, it was. I have not told father about my mark. I’m not sure what I would’ve even said to him about it.” She paused, “what about you, have you shown it to anyone other than me?”

  Ned shook his head. “In truth, it happened while I was on my way here. And I admit, I’m curious too. But I wasn’t sure how to explain it. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I’m not sure I would have said anything at all.” He quietly confessed to her.  
  
  “What should we do then?” she asked.

  “Do?” Ned asked puzzled.

  “About the mark, I mean. Should we ask the maester? Spend the winter in the library or. . .”  
She was cut off by her brother.

  “We should ask Old Nan. Maester Walys will just tell us that those are just old stories. But won’t explain what their origin is. Old Nan will at the very least tell us the damn story. And then sniff out the reason we asked in the first place.” He finished.

  After a moment she decided. “I think it’s worth the risk. If Old Nan knows anything worth knowing, then I suspect she will know how to help us.” Getting up, she turned to her brother and held out her hand in offering. “Come on big brother, we have a story to woo out of an old woman, and I won’t take no for an answer!” She chuckled while helping him to his feet. As always he just nodded and followed behind her as she lead them back to their horses.

  The two rode in silence for a time, letting all they had discussed wash over them. Lyanna could not deny she was still nervous about the impending talk with her father in regards to Robert Baratheon, she just hoped that father would not let maester Walys make the decision for him. The man had ambitions that were not _‘in the best interest of the realm’_. Just because he said he serves the realm doesn't make it so, In fact Lyanna was sure it was himself he was serving. She just couldn't understand his angle.

 

* * *

 

  
  That night after last meal, Lyanna, Ned and Ben made their way to Old Nan’s rooms and begged her to tell them a story to mark Ned’s return from the Vale.  
And she told them of the Long Night and the Last Hero. These were her favorite stories, Nan knew. So it was no surprise that this is the one she told. Then she told the story of a hero named Azor Ahai, a hero who forged the legendary blade Lightbringer to fight against the Great Other, and Lya’s _Ink_ mark began to throb. This made Lyanna remember the reason they decided to visit Old Nan in the first place, so she decided to ask.

  “Old Nan, have you ever heard anything about strange marks that just appear on a person’s skin, like say their wrist or something?” Lyanna tried to sound nonchalant, but there was no fooling Nan.

  “Aye, child. I know of such tales which these marks have significance, but I don't recall ever telling you about them. Tell me child, what makes you ask me of such things? Old Nan proded.

  “I promise to tell you Old Nan if you tell us what you know.” Ned quickly answered. And for whatever reason, Old Nan determined that a sufficient answer and began her story.

  They listened in silence for what seemed like hours of the powers of the Old Gods, and the beliefs of the First Men. The first mark in history was believed to have belonged to the First King, and his Queen once they settled in Westeros after the Dawn age. It is believed to be a magical thread that links two souls to one another. Legend says that those who bare them have been God’s touched and are marked for greatness. Their unions are preordained, and can be fatal to ignore. They are preceded by a series of visions which are a link to the other bearer of the mark. It's called an _Ink_ mark because it allows those marked to access the gates of the gods, to write destiny rather than simply participate in it. But there has not been a marked pair in over a hundred years.” _Until now_ . . . Lyanna thought to herself.

  When Nan was finished, she looked at both of them with unseeing eyes, and said, so tell me the both of you. What do your’s look like?” Of course she knew, even with her vision failing, there was little Old Nan did not see.  
So they sat for a while longer telling her all about them, and the events leading up to them. And when the hour of the Bat was finally upon them, they finally bid Old Nan good night, and left for their beds.

 

* * *

 

  
  A few days later, as promised, she was called back to her father’s solar, for the much dreaded conversation concerning Robert Baratheon. Never one to bandy words, her father pushed right on with the topic as soon as she had taken her seat.

  “As you know Lyanna, I promised we would revisit the topic in regards to Lord Robert's proposal in a few days. I have taken this time to think on what you said during our first conversation, and I have also spoken again with Ned. I am not sure what it is you said to him in the past few days, but it seems you have convinced him to not encourage this further. With that in mind, he also gave to me a list of questions you gave to him in regards to the character of the young lord in question, and I agree, these questions of yours deserve answers. For, I too am interested to know what they are.” he paused. “However, do not think that this means I will not discuss terms with him either Lyanna. Regardless of your thoughts, this is a very good offer, and maester Walys is correct, we are unlike to get a better one any time soon.” Lyanna gave an exasperated sigh, but her father just held up a hand to silence her before continuing. “It is my intent to see Brandon married to Catelyn Tully within the next two years. And for that reason, I will make it known that no marriage to you will take place until after you have reached six-and-ten nameday’s. A lot can happen in two years Lyanna. But think of this as a probation period for him. You want answers, and I would like to see them answered. If he wants to take my only daughter so far from the North, he will have to prove that he is capable of being the man you deserve.”

  This was not the answer she had hoped for, but her father's expression made it clear that the topic wasn’t really open for discussion. So Lya did the only thing she could. She looked her father in the eyes and reluctantly, she agreed.

  
  Before she excused herself from his solar, she considered showing him her Gods mark, but then reconsidered deciding that it would be better to bring it up at a later date.

  Instead, she moved around to the opposite side of her father's desk. Leaning in, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you father.” she said into his shoulder. He sat there a moment before wrapping her in his arms and tucking her into his lap and holding her there like he use to do when she was scared as a little pup. They sat there like that in silence for a time, before he chastely kissed her on the top of her head and dismissed her.

  “Aye, as I love you. Now off with you little one. Always. Now off with you. Your old man has work to finish.” was all he said. It was always the way with her father. No huge emotional displays or long well thought words. It wasn’t his way. But to Lyanna, it didn't matter. She had everything she needed in that moment.

  She was too distracted by her own thoughts when she exited her father's solar, that she failed to notice the crow keeping watch over her from the window.


	7. Rhaegar II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month after the mark appeared.

  It had been just over a moon’s turn since Rhaegar had sent his missive to his great-grand-uncle about his mark, and today he got his reply. It had of course been a busy month for him while he waited on it to come.

  As expected his father's reaction to Rhaenys was more of a rejection. “She smells Dornish!” he had said. Promptly before refusing to even touch her. Rhaegar could hardly resist the urge to roll his eyes at his father.

  “As you say, Your Grace.” He stood and waited to be dismissed, knowing that this conversation could only go one of two ways. And of course it was another few minutes more of how inferior Elia was, and how unworthy she was to be wed to a dragon. _How easy it would be father, to simply remind you that she is wed to me because you could not wait._

 _“_ And when did the maesters say you can bed the weak woman again?” the king grumbled. Not knowing if he was truly supposed to answer the question, but not wanting the king to ask again, he reluctantly responded.

  The maesters say that she should take six moons to bed, but after such a time we can try again. I assure you father we will do our duty when the time is upon us.

  “Very well, you may go, and take that child with you.”

  Rhaegar did not wait a moment longer, he simply nodded in acknowledgement, “Your Grace.” and swept from the throne room, and off in the direction of Maegor’s holdfast and his Queen mother.

  After being announced by Ser Gerold, Rhaegar was shown into his mother’s chambers and was met by a screaming Viserys. “Rhaegar, hi! I'm so happy you are back, Mother said you brought your new baby Rhaenys, can she play dragons with me? Please, please,please?” Try as he might, Rhaegar found himself struggling to contain his amusement.

  “Relax little Vis, I'm sure Rhaenys would love to play dragons with you, but it will be a while before she is ready to play. She is only a few moons old, but soon I promise. I'll tell you what though, would you like to meet her? She is in the nursery at the moment, but I planned to call for her. It seems unfair that I have had all of her time, while you and our Lady Mother have yet to be introduced to her.” At his word, Viserys eyes passed a variety of emotions, happiness, disappointment, and joy. ‘ _It must not have occurred to him that babies aren’t born ready to run and play.’_ Quietly, Vis nodded in agreement.

  While Viserys acquainted himself with his niece, Rhaegar took the time to catch up with his lady mother. He had much to discuss with her, including matters with Elia, the progress he’s been making with the prophecies. But mostly, he wanted to discuss the Ink mark with her, and hear her counsel on how to proceed with matters concerning Dorne, and his father.

  Not surprisingly, the mark took up a great deal of their time together. And to his shock, he found, for the first time in his life his mother taking interest in the prophecy.

  Before a weeks time, Rhaegar was on his way back to Dragonstone with Rhaenys. He spent only as much time in the city as he had too. Making sure to check in with Jon Connington and a few other people he had stationed within the Red Keep to keep him abreast of what happens while he is away from court. He knew if he had left any sooner his father and his Master of Whispers would have come up with a way to turn his actions into treason, and that was the last thing he needed to be focusing on right now. If he was somehow able to figure out who he shared his link with, he needed to be prepared to act.

 

* * *

 

 

  
After bringing Rhaenys to Elia and bringing her up to date on current events in the capitol, he excused himself to his solar to see about the scrolls that had been waiting for him. Of what was waiting, only two stood out. The first a raven from House Whent. Rhaegar suspected he knew what that one was in regards to. The second was the one he had been hoping to receive. Uncle Aemon. Settling into his chair, he quickly broke the seal and read it's contents greedily.

>   
>    
>    
>    
>    
>  _My Dearest Nephew,_
> 
> _It pleases me to have received word from you as always. What a shock you gave me when you mentioned your mark._   
>  _As you suspected, I of course do have some knowledge on the matter, though not as much as you may need._   
>  _I do have some suggestions however that could remedy this for you. But firstly, there are a few books I can recommend you that may have a more detailed accounting of the origins and how to understand their purpose._   
>  _You have undoubtedly been given the God’s Mark. As you may have guessed, these are extremely rare. So rare in fact that there has not been one recorded since just after the Dance of Dragons. Fear not nephew mine, I do have a few documented marked accounts that I can share with you, interestingly there are also some that include those who never had a recorded match. Nevertheless, if there is no information to be had on the Lore of the Old Gods, you may still have luck looking into these documented marked pairs individually._   
>  _There are quite a few documented cases available, some of which I can remember for myself. One of which I think you will find special interest in._   
>  _-Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys were marked. As were Alysanne and Jaehaerys the Conciliator. As well as Jacaerys Velaryon though there is no documented pairing for Jace. However Jace is not alone in this. Apparently there are quite a few that are documented that also have no confirmed pair._   
>  _Florian and Jonquil and Bael the Bard and his Lady Stark of Winterfell are both rumored to have been marked._   
>  _Cregan Stark and Alysanne Blackwood were marked, and found themselves on the battlefield. Another documented pair is Nymeria and Mors Martell._   
>  _Vorian Dayne and Sara Snow- Bastard daughter to Cregan Stark are both two such marked people who were never joined with the person whom they were matched to, so far as documented history goes._   
>  _I suspect you may have better luck once you have more information to go through, and It is my hope that this little bit will be enough. Start with what I have provided, as well as these books._   
>  _-Ancient Lore of the Old Gods and the First Men._   
>  _\- History and Lineage of the Great Houses of Westeros_   
>  _-The Old Gods of the North_   
>  _-Passages of the Dead -Maester Kennet_   
>  _-A History of Aegon’s Conquest- Special emphasis on House Targaryen Prior to conquest._   
>  _You may have some of these tomes on Dragonstone already nephew, I suspect though that some of these have held no real interest for dragons and thus have never seen Dragonstone. Dragons do not plant trees. So they have no need for tree gods._   
>  _I would also recommend reaching out to an old friend of mine from the Citadel. His name is Archmaester Marwyn. He’s an oddity at the citadel, but I know you can trust him with this information._   
>  _Nephew, be careful with what you write, and what you share. The Citadel does not like things that aren’t easily explainable. They won't be welcoming of this new development. While it may seem small now, make no mistake this mark means magic is coming back to the world. Something is happening my boy, something is changing. The only people who have access to information of this magnitude are maesters who are of the highest rank. Such as Archmaester Marwyn. He has access to the information that the Citadel wants to lock away and keep hidden from the world. If you do reach out to him. Tell him about what you are in need of, but no more than that. Do not share more than necessary._   
>  _As a final thought, it may be that the best place to go for more information on the subject is Winterfell. It may be that reaching out to the Warden of the North could be the best way to solve the matter once and for all. As you may know,the Starks are the longest ruling house in all of Westeros, and before conquest they had never allowed a maester into their castles. So much of the history that has been recorded by the citadel has only been possible because we allow maesters into our keeps and our lives with the soul purpose of gathering information and sharing it so that it can be useful to others. Vital information is also recorded such as bloodlines, Lore, the length of seasons, the yield of a particular crop that year and what not. But not so in the north. Whatever information the citadel has, has only been recorded since Aegon’s Conquest. It was only after conquest, that the North started allowing the citadel to send forth maesters forth to their major keeps and holdfasts._   
>  _For that reason, most of what is recorded is either courtesy of a second hand accounting, or written post conquest. Which is why I recommend going straight to the source for the answers you require. The Library in Winterfell seems the most likely of places to find any real history in regards to being Gods marked. While you are thinking on the matter, it is also worth mentioning that if indeed you are in need of Ice and Fire rather than Salt and Smoke you should pay more attention to the bloodline of House Stark. It may come as a surprise to you Nephew, but the Starks of Winterfell are among the purest of bloodlines in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. They’ve never diluted it by mixing with houses of Andal origins. At least not in the Ruling line._   
>  _If Ice and Fire are indeed an interpretation of Salt and Smoke, then there is little doubt that your answer lies within the line of the King’s of Winter, for as sure as the Valyrians created their empire with Dragons, Fire and Blood, The King’s of Winter did the same of their own kingdom, only using Ice and Snow and Blood. Of this I am certain, for I live on a Magical Hinge at the edge of the world made from Ice and Blood and weirwood._   
>  _I wish you luck on your research son, I am here should you have need of me in the future.  
>   
> _ _With all of my love, Aemon._ _Maester of the Citadel and Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch._

__  
  
  
  
Rhaegar sat back in his chair, letting his uncles words wash over him. All things considered, he knew there would be much to go over. The biggest question right now however, is whether or not he should talk to Lord Rickard on the matter. With everything that is going on right now, he could not afford to have his father's eyes drift north. Regardless of whether the reasons were innocent enough or not. Any attempt to communicate over such distance would draw too much attention should a message be intercepted. No, if he had any need of the library at Winterfell, or a conversation with a certain Warden of the North, it would have to wait until after the Tournament.  
  
As much as he had a hunger to get this all worked out, he knew that he had to be patient. For now, the most he could do would be to contact this Archmaester and make arrangements with him to come to Dragonstone. And talk with Elia. No matter what happens here, Elia needs to know what is going on...

 


	8. Eddard I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned has spent a few months in the North with his family, and now he is heading back to the vale. About 3 months after Lyanna's last chapter.

**The Quiet Wolf**  


  He had set off from Winterfell just over a fortnight past, staying as long as he could before returning to the Eyrie. To Jon Arryn and Robert. Ned still did not know what he would say to Robert about Lyanna, _maybe he has the link to Lya’s Ink Mark_ he could not help but think to himself as he climbed the mountain road to the Vale.  
  
 In his last weeks, Lyanna and he found themselves dug deep into the books in the library tower. But they hardly found anything that would help them figure out what their next move should be. Nothing about how to locate the other half of the link, or how to read the mark. Any mention of the marks at all were vague at best. There were some unofficial records in the library about ancient starks who bore the mark.  
  
 ‘Look what I just found Ned!’ he recalled hearing how excited Lyanna sounded.

 ‘Apparently we are not the only two of our line to be marked. In fact there have been quite a few Starks who have been marked since our House was founded. This list only documents any appearance since conquest, but by the Gods Ned! Can you imagine if we had the entire history since the days of Bran the Builder? I bet there is one. Only written in the runes of the first men.’ Ned just sat there listening to Lyanna go on and on about this. If he interrupted her now, it could be hours before he actually got too look at the ledger. To his surprise, she quickly slid the ledger over and tucked herself into his side so they could look it over.  
  
 ‘Cregan Stark and Alysanne Blackwood were marked.’ Ned could not believe it. He had been married once before he married Black Aly. Though, not for very long, and he married once after her too. Whatever this meant, the soul mark certainly does not guarantee happiness or a long marriage.

 

   _I wonder if the soul mark has anything to do with the marked at all, or if it is more about the offspring. . ._  
  
 ‘There’s another page Ned. Oh my, this one is much older, it says that Rickard Stark son of Jon Stark of the Wolf’s Den, had a mark too. And he took the daughter of the Marsh King  Meera Reed to wife after defeating them, who was his _link barer_.  

 And another one of an Edric Stark who took one Melantha Blackwood to wife after defeating her people in the battle for Sea Dragon Point, also another _mark barer_ .’ Lyanna finished.  
  
 ‘The Warg King's?’ he said aloud, and to no one in particular. But Lyanna had heard what he said and turned to him.  
  
 ‘What did you say Ned?’ she asked.  
  
 ‘The Warg King’s. Do you remember any of the history of the North from early on? The history of our Houses’ rise to power?’ Lyanna nodded.  
  
 ‘Not all of it, but I remember some. It’s just, It's been a long time since I have heard anyone speak of the Warg King’s. Maester Walys always makes sure Nan doesn't tell us about them any more.’ she finally finished.

  
   _I wonder why he would do such a thing. . ._  
  
 ‘ Well, if you must know. . . I was thinking that this is starting to make some sense Lya. First there is Rickard, who was marked and took Meera to wife. She is the daughter of the Marsh king's and you know that they say that the Marsh king’s are related to the Children of the Forest and the Greenmen. The Warg king’s of Sea Dragon Point were also said to have special magical blood. They could skinchange wolves and birds, and were also close to the Children. When our ancestors defeated them, it was said they fought off direwolves and giant eagles, and the Children too. And again when it was all said and done, Edric took Melantha to wife. And these marks and the only references we have link them to magic bearing blood. Lyanna there is more to this.’ And there was. The more and more he thought on things, the more certain he had been.  
  
 Ned had never functioned under the illusion that his ancestors had all been good men. How could they have been? The north is not a kind place. It breeds hard people and harder leaders. But something about these matches really made his mark tingle. These weren't the only people that his ancestors had wiped out and wed into, There was also the First Barrow King. Ned didn't want to even think about what skills his people attained with that conquest.  
  
 He could hardly remember the tails of the First King, but from what he did remember, the First King of the Barrows placed a curse on his land and had it sown with salt so that no king could rise above him on his lands. Some tales say that it was necromancy that was his skill. Though Ned could honestly say that he had never seen his kin bring dead men back to life.

 

_Others take me, what have you got me going on about Lyanna._

 

* * *

 

 

 It was another week before he saw the Eyrie come into view. Going up the mountain always took longer. And sure, he could have saved some time by coming up in the basket, but he had more dignity than to allow such folly. So he took the long route, first by mule, then by goat of course. But finally he found himself being ushered into the halls of the falcon. Jon Arryn was there of course to greet him, but no Robert. He was not sure why, but something akin to relief washed over him at the absence of his friend.  
  
 “Welcome back Eddard, I trust your travels weren't too tough?” Lord Arryn enquired.

 “If you are looking after Robert, don't worry, I am sure he will be along soon enough.” he said.  
  
 “Nay, I would have been glad to receive both you and Lord Robert. But in truth I just want a bath, and Robert has too much energy to allow for such _‘frivolities’_ as he likes to put it, when there is wine and women,” he responded in a light teasing tone, that he hoped Lord Arryn bought. In truth, he was not ready to bring up the betrothal matter with either of them. It seemed that Lord Arryn was just as invested in the match as Robert had been.

  
 Lord Arryn took a moment to appraise him before responding.  “Well son, then let us not tarry. I'll see that your things are brought to your chambers and if you have the energy later on we can dine together and catch up. Hmm?

  
 “Aye, that sounds perfect. I shall like that very much.” he said with a gracious smile, as to not seem too eager.  
  
 Once in his room he set about settling in. He checked to see if he had any correspondence waiting on him, and read through what was there while he waited on his bath to be filled. There was nothing really interesting, an invitation to a tourney expected to be held later on in the year. Lyanna had sent him a message telling him how much she wished he would have stayed longer, and interestingly a bit about a dream. _I'll have to write her about this later on._ He could not help but think to himself. Finally, his bath was ready so he stood from his desk and set about removing his clothing and climbing into the hot water.  
  
 He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, it was to Robert Baratheon standing over him with the biggest grin he had ever seen before.  
  
 “Did I wake you princess Ned? Would you like it if I were to return after you’ve called your handmaids to assist you?” Robert teased.  
  
 “Only if you plan to take me dancing after the fact. I refuse to get dressed up for you just to stay in.” Ned teased back before realizing that he just told Robert they could go out.

 

 Too late. . . Robert never missed a chance to drag Ned out.  
  
 “You may not have understood what you just said Ned, but don't think I will forget. Now out of the water with you. It's been five moons since I last saw you and I want to catch up. So hurry your arse Stark!” Robert boomed as he walked out of his chambers.

 

 _Well, so much for  one night alone before the interrogation begins._ Ned couldn't help but think to himself.  
  
 About an hour later, Robert was seated across from him in his chambers. “So tell me, what did my sweet betrothed think when your father presented her with my offer?” he asked eagerly.  
  
 “Well, ah. . .” Ned stammered at the question. “Well Robert, you should know that Lyanna has never wanted to be wed, so please understand, I'm sure it had nothing to do with you, but she was not in the least bit happy at the prospect of a proposal.” He rushed out of his mouth hoping that would be the end of it. No such luck...  
  
 “What do you mean she was not happy at the prospect of it? Did you tell her how much I love her? Or how I plan give her the best of everything? Did you tell her I will give her seven strong sons to honor the gods and carry my name?” Robert asked as though it was the most natural thing in the world for a person to want.  Getting lost in his thoughts, he let his mind wander to the babe Robert fathered on that girl here in the Vale.

 

 _Maya. . . As if the idea of adding seven sons to the one bastard daughter he already has should excite her,_ he could not help but think to himself.  
  
 After a moment or so, Ned finally understood what it was Robert had asked him. And he could not help but feel put out by the entire subject. None of what Robert said had anything to do with Lyanna, and everything to do with himself. For a moment he could almost taste his irritation on his tongue. Nevertheless he took a deep breath and replied.

 

  “Robert, I was asked to deliver a marriage proposal to my sister. One I did not intend for you to offer her. But I delivered it to her all the same, because you are like a brother to me, and I thought to myself that I could do worse than to have you as my good-brother. Knowing that Lyanna is as wild as the winter’s wind,” he paused and looked at Robert to gauge his reaction before finishing, “it is not the place of the second son to secure marriage alliances for their siblings. So I assume that my father will be in contact with you if he has not already.” he finished. Before Robert could reply, there was a knock on his door, and after a moment, Lord Arryn poked his head in.

 

 “I hope I am not disturbing the two of you,” Lord Arryn said by way of interjecting.  
  
 “No, of course you aren’t My Lord,” Ned stood up to greet the lord properly. He didn’t fail to notice that Robert did not stand. “Please do join us. We were just catching up.”  
  
 With this, Lord Arryn made his way into Ned’s chambers and over to the receiving  area that they were sitting in. “Did you get your correspondence that was left for you Ned?” Lord Arryn enquired.  
  
 “I did. Nothing of much importance. There's to be a tourney it would seem?” Ned added.  
  
 “Aye, Harrenhal apparently. Lord Whent is throwing it in honor of his youngest daughter’s sixteenth name day it seems.” Robert supplied.  
  
 “Did either of you happen to see the prize purse?” Ned asked. “I don't think this has anything to do with a name day celebration if I'm being honest.” he continued.  
  
 To this Lord Arryn’s gaze drifted toward him. “Please elaborate Ned.”  
  
 Ned turned red from the attention. He did not mean anything by it really. Nevertheless he continued his line of thought. “We all know that the king is going crazy, and everyone always says that the prince will be a better king. And after that whole thing with the prince marrying that Martell girl, everyone is always talking about how the ‘Old Lion’ has left court to lick his wounds. Even you have mentioned that Lord Tywin wanted his daughter to wed the prince.” he paused. “It would not surprise me if this has something to do with all of that is all.” he hurried to finish.  
  
  Jon Arryn had nothing to say in response to that. He simply nodded his head in consideration of what he had just said to the both of them. For some reason Lord Arryn did not seem pleased with the idea of Rhaegar or Lord Tywin planning something that involved the king. Even more so, Lord Arryn excused himself shortly after, bidding them both a good night.

_Why do I feel as If I was just interrogated for information?_  
  
  Not really knowing what else to say, Ned told Robert that he was wanting to retire for the evening and bid his friend to leave him. He had much on his mind, and he could not handle Robert right now.

  
 “Maybe tomorrow we can spar and finish catching up” he told him before closing the door.  
  
 That night, he dreamed of falling stars in a violet sky. And a crow cawing in the distance.


	9. Elia I

**281 AC**   
  
  
  
  


      Rhaegar had been home from King’s Landing for about three days before he came to see her. Not that it bothered her much. They were friendly, true. But they had never been especially close. He was her duty, and she his. It could have been much worse, he could have her with little regard to her person as most men would. But that was just not his way. Not for the first time did she wish that Rhaegar had someone who could make him smile. She had even tried to convince Arthur to talk him into courting Ashara or another of her ladies, but it was futile.

  She did not worry that he was coming to her for his husbandly duties, it had only been little over two moons since Rhaenys had been born, and the maester bid Rhaegar give her at least six moons. However, if she had to be honest, she knew that he would wait until he could wait no longer. As soon as his father commands it, there will be no more putting this off. Luckily for her, Rhaegar came for something completely different. He simply wanted to talk.

  “How do you feel Elia?” he began.

  “Most well, thank you, my prince.” she replied in her most courteous tone.

  He smiled sadly at the mention of his title. “Please, Elia, fear not, I came here to talk with you. I have no desires of you. In truth I have a matter that I need to discuss with you that is of the utmost import, and can not be repeated to anyone. Can I talk about this with you Elia?” he asked her beseechingly.

_How could I ever deny such an earnest request?_

  “Please, Rhaegar do share whatever is on your mind, and I will do my best to listen and help.” she decided at once. For even though theirs was not a marriage of love, Rhaegar was always kind, and always willing to listen.

  “Elia, about a week after our daughter was born we received a white raven from the citadel. Do you remember?” he asked. She nodded. “That's good. Later that night, something happened while I was reading through my texts. I have not mentioned it in the time since, because I did not know much about it, and how can I explain something that I know nothing about? At any rate, it is probably easier to show you rather than tell you.” he finished.

  
  She had no idea where this was going, it was certainly not the most odd conversation they had ever had, _no that was definitely when he told me about his prophecy. . ._

  “Please continue,” and continue he did. Without waiting he began to undo the laces on the sleeve of his shirt. She could not help but to raise an inquisitive brow at him, but he just carried on until his left wrist was bared to her.

  
  Not quite understanding what it was he was trying to show her, she decided to ask, “What am I looking at Rhaegar?” and just before he could reply, she saw it. It wasn’t very dark at all, and in truth had the light from the fire not hit it while he was turning his wrist, she may have missed it all together. “Is that a dragon?” she heard herself ask.

  
  “Yes. It's an Ink Mark. Have you ever heard of them before?” he asked.

  
  “Ironically yes, I have.’ Looking into his eyes, she continued... “Which means that I understand what this means.” she paused.

  “You are promised to another by word of the gods.” she finished for him before he had the chance. Had she not been so flabbergasted by the irony of the situation she could have fallen over in a fit of laughter at the stunned look on Rhaegar’s face. But she could not. She was married to a man who was promised to another, while she was being denied the man she had loved for as long as she could remember. The gods are cruel. She found herself thinking bitterly.

  
  “Don't be so shocked Rhaegar, of course I know what this is. I was sick a great portion of my life _husband_ ,” she let the last word slide off her tongue like a curse. “I had nothing better to do than read as a child and it was then that I came across them. Also, Nymeria and Mors Martell shared a _soul link._ Why do you think we chose the Sun and the Spear as our sigil? They were the bonded marks of the two.” Apparently this also shocked Rhaegar.

  “Wait, they both had the same mark? I don't know much about this Elia. This is why I have not shown you. I was waiting on word from Aemon.” he said handing her a scroll she assumed was from his uncle.

  
  After reading it she decided to take it easy on him. After all, he had no choice in this, and that mark certainly was not there prior to their marriage. Still it taste bitter in her mouth. “Actually no, that is not the way they work. The Ink Mark is a representation of the wearer. So Mors Martell bore the Sun while Nymeria bore the Spear of the warrior princess of the Rhyone. Their union blended the two together to create the Sun and Spear of my House. I suppose it sounds simple. May I see your mark?”

  
  Moving closer Rhaegar held out his wrist to her and she took it between both of her hands. Turning it from side to side, the silver was the color of his hair, the same color of his harp. And it shimmered ever so lightly. Not really understanding why, she reached for it, running her thumb over the image, and nearly jumped from her chair at the contact.

  “What the hell was that Rhaegar?”  
  
  He looked at her and then back at his wrist, “You can feel that? I didn't know if it was only me.” was the only answer he gave.  
  
  “Yes, I can feel that! Could you not have warned me? Why is it so hot?” she could not help but ask.  
  
  “Honestly, I don't have the answers yet Elia. I just know that I needed to talk to you about this and we need to prepare ourselves for what happens should I find my link barer.”

  She could only nod in understanding. “It seems that there will be a second wife for you to take.”

  “What? No, Elia I won't be taking a second wife.” he stated as if it were the most natural conclusion to come up with.

  “Rhaegar, you can't deny your link barer. Should you find her, you both must be together. The gods have preordained this. No one can separate an Inked pair. Not a king, or a septon. The Gods will be answered.” she had to make him see sense.

  
  “Of this, Elia I know. But you misunderstand. I mean to release you from our vows. Please hear me out. I know you love Arthur. And I know he loves you too. I mean to do something about it, when I have the means to.” she couldn't help but give him a puzzled look.

  “What kind of a man do you think me to be to stay wed to you while you are forced to a life alone? Nay, I would never expect that of you. We both know what our marriage is. It is a duty. One that was forced on the both of us. I have no doubt sweet Elia that you would have been content to continue at your duty. . .” he said the last part with a look of disgust.

  “I want more for you than a life of duty. I would see you smile. I would see you laugh. I would see you in the sun with not a care in the world. Not locked away here on Dragonstone to keep you safe from mine own father.”

  
  His words reached out and touched her soul. She had never known that he cared for her wellbeing, not in a way such as this at any rate. In the year that they had been married this was probably the most the two of them had said to one another in a single conversation. She could do no more than to sit quietly and nod to let him know she was listening.   
  
  “This mark changes things. So that means that changes must also be made. When we find her, I will need your help. It is one thing to allow you to keep Arthur as your lover. It will be another when we have to annul the marriage. Especially in the eyes of your brothers. I will need your help to convince them that this is unavoidable.” He stopped and waited to see if she had anything to add.

  She did. . .

  
  “What about Rhaenys. If you annul the marriage what happen to the legitimacy of our daughter? What will happen with me? I will not leave my daughter to be raised by another woman.” She could not help but to let the venom seep through her at the last moment. But damn the impropriety of it all, this was the single most important question she could think of.

  
  “Nothing. She is my daughter. My first born daughter, and until a son is born to me she is my heir. Nothing will change that. Rhaenys is still of my blood. And she will wed my son when the time comes, if the gods permit, or if she is willing.” The force in which he said the words left little room for doubt. “As for what you will do, I was hoping you would remain in King’s Landing or here on Dragonstone, if you prefer. I would ask you to sit on my council once my father is no longer ruling. I want to find a way to create a better relationship with Dorne that does not involve selling children against their wishes. I know it is a lot to think about, and I don't have a position figured out yet, but I feel strongly that this is the best way for the realm moving forward. And who better to serve as the first woman to sit a king's small council than a princess of Dorne and Westeros?”

  
  She couldn't believe what she was hearing, “What you are proposing is unheard of Rhaegar, but it would be an honor to represent Dorne in any fashion I can. And I do believe this may appease my brother Doran. However, I'm sure his biggest concern will be Rhaenys position. But Dorne is no stranger to the will of the gods, I am sure he will see reason when the truth of the mark is revealed. Very well, when the time comes, I will aide you in the discussions with them.” And after a moment she decided to add something else.

  “Rhaegar, if you are certain of this, we should make preparations for our annulment sooner rather than later. To safeguard your line of succession by not introducing another heir not of your prophecy. As much as I want Rhaenys to be queen, I also want her to live. And if that means removing her from this prophecy so be it. I would not risk a son or my life moving forward on a King’s command. I want to give the man I love sons and daughters. And whomever she is,” she paused and reached for his hand, “she deserves to have all of you, and so do her children. So, we shall do this thing, and once it is done, those who know shall bend the knee to you and swear you their new king. This is going to be the start of removing your father, so you need to make sure that the people you surround yourself with are loyal, and will give their life for you. No more talking about making a change, changes are happening whether we are working toward them or not, it's time we start embracing these changes.”

  
  They spoke at length for a few more hours before he bid her good night. And by the time he was gone, she could feel the exhaustion creeping into her soul. Before settling in for the night, she went across the hall to the adjoining chambers to check in on her little dragonling. “Sleep well my darling.” she said before kissing her brow, and cracking the door so she may hear her should she wake. And then she retired to her bed.

  
  Before she dozed off, she was not sure if she heard a crow croaking just beyond her window.


	10. Rhaegar III

**Harrenhal 7th moon 281 AC**  


  He arrived the day before the tourney began, thankfully ahead of his father and his escort. He had hoped to arrive sooner, to make sure all the plans were in order and set up his tent, but there were delays of course. Mostly, it was Rhaenys wanting to join them for the event, and Elia wanting to stay and comfort her. In the end Rhaenys was left with the Queen and Prince Viserys and they had lost a half a day travel time.

_What is done is done..._

  Once he handed his horse off to the stable hand, he made straight for the Great Keep where he was sure Lord Whent would be waiting for him. Upon arrival he was greeted with bread and salt and a bit of wine, in observance of Guest Right before the lord ushered him toward his solar. They spent a few hours going over last minute details. And touching up any seating arrangements previously set up for the feast later on in the evening. After all was said, Rhaegar excused himself. He was expecting his father soon enough, and he wanted to be sure his living chambers would be up to his satisfaction. He had a few private matters he needed to see to before that happened.

  Moving toward the desk in his father's assigned chambers, he quickly went for a piece of parchment and scribed the missive he needed to send with all haste. Now that his father had decided to attend he would need to make changes to his plans for the Council, and rather than heading for the capitol he would need to ride for Winterfell to meet with Lord Rickard. He hoped that by now his message to postpone the Lady Lyanna’s betrothal had reached her father. It was a long shot he knew, but based on all the information he had found with the help of Archmaester Marwyn, and the many ravens sent back and forth between himself and his great-grand-uncle, it was next to certain that she was his link barer. Too many coincidences between the two linking them to Ice and Fire. And if it isn't her, there has to be a cousin or a close relative who is marked. If the first, he would know soon enough, if the latter, only going to Winterfell will reveal the truth of the matter.

  It was just past midday when he was made his way from the castle heading in the direction of the rookery to send a second message via  raven. He would be sure to watch it be sent, this way no one would get to view the contents of the message. He had decided against mentioning the mark, not knowing what the backlash of such a reveal would mean without the link barer first discovered. He could not have someone like Tywin Lannister or Grand Maester Pycelle finding this information and using it as some form of leverage. Even though he had no proof, he was certain that Tywin was behind his father’s imprisonment at Duskendale. He needed his support, but he did not trust the man. And if this mark meant Cersei would never be Queen, he shuddered to think of what Tywin Lannister would do to his link barer should he find her before Rhaegar was able to complete their link.

  
   He was making his way into the yard just in time to see some new arrivals setting up.  Arthur and Oswell met him at the doors. “Who’s arrived?” he asked.

   “Seems the Riverlords are setting up and the Northern host was spotted not five miles out, I suspect we should be seeing them soon enough.” Oswell responded. And sure enough, by the time they were making their way toward the Camping grounds, the first few riders were starting to approach.

  From a distance it looked like two young boys were racing along in front of the rest of their party, but as they got closer, Rhaegar could see that it was actually a younger boy, and what appeared to be his sister racing toward the castle. Something about the sight made Rhaegar feel like he was intruding on a moment, so he stepped back into a shadow so he could observe without creating a distraction.

  The boy was young, possibly no more than ten-and-four  years of age, with a long face and blue-grey eyes that he could see from this distance. But it was the girl who caught his attention. She was unlike anything he had ever seen before, she looked like the boy, in that she had his long face, but her eyes were darker, and she had an aura about her that pulsed with life and vitality. She hadn’t seen him standing there thank the gods, so he assumed it safe to observe her a while longer. “Arthur, do you know who they are?” he asked his friend.

   “I assume they are the youngest Starks. They all have the same look. Ben-something, and Ly-...”

  “. . .Lyanna, third born child of Lord Rickard Stark. His only daughter.” Rhaegar finished for him.

   Beside him, Arthur lifted his brow in question. “It's nothing, I have been doing some research on the Northern houses these past months. I want to know more about them is all. I have never met any of them though.” he answered.

  Just then the Stark girl turned toward her brother and Rhaegar caught a brief snippet of their conversation. She had an easy way with her brother, and her manners were so uninhibited around her kin. “I'm telling you Ben, the Citadel is wrong, Winter is not over…”

_Such an odd conversation to have. Of course winter is over_. He thought while continuing to listen.

   “Yes, yes Ben, the raven flew. . . How many years have I known when Winter was here before the raven arrived? You know I'm right,” she teased her companion. At that moment she turned and Rhaegar caught a glimpse of the most radiant smile he had ever seen before. His heart began to hammer in his chest.     

_What is the matter with you? She is just a girl, she might not even be The girl,_ _get_ _it_ _together._  

   He knew it was a lie even as he thought it. The moment she rode up he felt his mark begin to tingle, unbidden he felt his lip begin to curve in a smile. He chided himself before turning to Oswell and Arthur, wiping the smirk from his face before they could notice. If he didn't keep it together he would have a lot of explaining to do and he would prefer to explain it to _her_ before he shares it with anyone else. She at least deserved that much.  

   “Come, let us go inspect the grounds.” And with that they set off toward the grounds to make sure everything looked up to par. He had to walk away now, lest he would rush out there and make a fool of himself in front of the girl.

 

   It was a few hours later, while they were making their way back to their tents that they were pulled off course by the sound of a girl yelling in the distance. Taking a look around, they saw nothing so they headed in the direction of the disturbance. Just when they were approaching, Rhaegar caught a glimpse of the Stark girl setting upon three boys with a tourney sword.

   Oswell was just about to intervene, but Rhaegar decided that he wanted to see how the she-wolf was going to react, so he held out his arm to stop him from announcing his presence.

  “Wait, I want to see how she handles this.” he said. If he were being honest with himself, the truth would be that the girl lit a fire within him. He needed to know as much about her as he could before revealing himself to her. _Gods willing she won't think me mad._ The thought was absurd, if she was this link barer she would be glad one would think. If not, all he had to do would be to convince her to show him her wrist.

_It's a perfectly normal request for one to ask surely._ He tried to convince himself.

  “Should we not intervene? What if she gets hurt My Prince, and someone finds out we just sat here and watched the daughter of a Lord Paramount be attacked? We should step in, My Prince.” Oswell tried convincing him.

  “No need, see? Look at her Oz, does she seem like a maid who would be glad to have three knights step in to save her in such a distressed state? Nay, Oswell, look with your eyes. She does not need rescuing,” Rhaegar pointed toward the girl. “She needs freedom from what I can see.” he finished before Arthur could weigh in.

  “The boys took off running, her form is excellent, had you not been attempting to be chivalrous you would have seen that this fair maid was actually saving a damsel of her own.” and sure enough, she was knelt over a small boy wearing what looked like a tunic lined in green scales checking to his injuries. “By the gods, first she is wielding a sword, now she is as tender as a maester.” Arthur said from somewhere just behind him.

    _She is certainly something. . . His own Visenya come again._ Was all he could think by way of silent reply.

  They stood in the shadows for a few moments more watching her attend to the boy, and decided to depart once the boy was back on his feet and moving with only a small amount of help from the Lady Lyanna.

 

  On his way back to his tent, he could not help but think about how lovely a sight she was. Her hair was as wild as a winter storm, but her eyes shone as bright as the sun when she was wielding that sword. He was so distracted by his own thoughts, he didn't hear a thing Oswell, and Arthur had said to him. If he was being honest, he didn't care. There was something about that girl. And without thinking about it, he began to lightly rub at the soft flesh of his left wrist.

     _It has to be you. . ._

  He could not help but think. He wanted to talk to her, he just wasn’t sure when the right time would be. He could not just simply approach her, and he wasn’t even sure what he would say, he had no practice in courting women, he had no patience for the practice at all. And it was clear that whatever he thought he knew about women, the Lady Lyanna did not meet the mold at all, once again he found himself feeling the weight of the prophecy heavy on his shoulders. Suddenly he was struck with the irony of his situation, he had eagerly read every book he could get his hands on as a boy and even more as a man, but never once had he read a book on how to woo a woman, nevertheless a woman who does not act conventionally.

 

* * *

 

   It was just before sundown when Arthur announced that his father's party was approaching. _I'm not sure why I am surprised he made it today, but it would have been best if he had just stayed in the Capital._ He stopped himself from finishing those thoughts,  it would do naught at any rate. His father was nearing, and he knew that he would just have to make the best of his situation.

   Making his way to the steps leading to the great keep, Rhaegar moved to stand beside Lord Whent, while his assigned guard, and Kingsguard all got in line to greet the king.

   It was customary to offer bread and salt upon receiving any guest, but the king would not observe such customs. He would wait until he was in his room to have it brought to him. That way he could have it taste tested before he partook.

  “I'm sure you are aware Lord Whent, of His Grace’s personal reasons for waiting to receive Guest Right. I would ask that you keep the conversation minimal, and don't elaborate in your answers. The sooner this is over, the better for everyone it will be.” he felt he had to warn the Lord before hand. Luckily enough, this was Ser Oswell’s brother and he was kept abreast of most information in regards to the King’s current state of health. So he simply gave a curt nod, and resumed his position.

  It was a very brief greeting. As expected, the king was in no state for conversation. Complaining about the state of the King’s Road and how much it knocked him around.

   _No doubt he is thinking of someone to blame for it's neglect so he can deliver the “King’s justice”._ Rhaegar could not help but think to himself sardonically...

  Ever the dutiful son, he escorted the King to his chambers, and filled him in on the state of the castle, and the events that would be starting tomorrow.  And the King informed him that he would be welcoming Jaime Lannister into the Kingsguard before the feast commenced.

_This explains why Lord Tywin did not venture out of his lair._  

 

  Thinking of something to say that would not be taken out of context to his father, he made sure to praise him.

  “That is most wonderful news father, I am sure Lord Tywin will feel honored to have his son serve his majesty.”.

_What the fuck was that Rhaegar? Lord Tywin is most definitely not honored to lose his heir to my mad father. . ._  Nevertheless, this seemed to please the king so he simply nodded.

  “Yes, yes. . . such an honor. He should be lucky I don't honor him with his son’s head on a spike. That would keep him in his place.” was his only reply before dismissing him. And of course Rhaegar found himself all too happy to comply. Bowing his head, he made for the door.

  Turning back once he reached the door, “I shall be here to escort you to the feast in a few hours, Your Grace.” was all he could think to say as he made his way from his father's apartments.

* * *

 

   That night at the feast, he sat dutifully as Ser Gerold fastened the white cloak of the Kingsguard around the shoulders of Ser Jaime Lannister. The lad wore the brightest smile he had ever seen on him, and when it was time to say his vows, he did not even balk. After the crowd died down, his father announced that Ser Jaime was to depart for the capitol immediately to start his guard over the Queen and the Prince Viserys. No one had expected such a command to come from the king, surly making him ride for Harrenhal to be inducted into the order was unnecessary, considering he could have just done it in King’s Landing and left the boy behind. He wanted to humiliate the boys father, of this he was sure, but the Old Lion was locked away on the Rock still seething over the slight. Rhaegar was certain that Tywin would never let this go. Tyrion would never inherit The Rock while Tywin drew breath. He would never inherit a thing, if Tywin had his way. Such a pity too, it isn't the boys fault he was born stunted.

  This was not the only event worth taking note of this evening. The Lords and Ladies in attendance, spent a good portion of time taking in the appearance of the king. No doubt seeing him in all his state, was more than they expected.

  _Good let them see you father. Let them see how far the dragon has fallen. Soon . . . Westeros will unite behind a new rule._

 It occurred to him then that while his father coming to the tourney was as unwanted as it was unexpected, he could find a way to use this in his favor. Many of these lords present have only heard whispers of the king's madness, choosing to distance themselves from court for the most part. And up until recently, his madness was able to be contained to within the Red Keep.

 _And_ _with him attending, he will be all the proof I will need to gain their support. . ._

  The next hour or so went off without incident. He did happen to notice Ashara making her rounds around the floor, accepting dances and requests from key players, at this he made a mental note to update her on the change of plans. And he would need to meet with Elia in her rooms later on to update her as well. He had taken her advice of course, after their first conversation about the mark, he had immediately summoned Archmaester Marwyn to Dragonstone and made moves from there. The Archmaester as it turned out, had multiple contacts within the church and the faith and was able to get word to the High Septon of the Mark. It was a risk at the time, because Rhaegar was not convinced that the news would not reach his father, but the worry was for naught.

  Within a moon’s turn the High Septon was on dragonstone and in the company of himself, Elia and Marwyn, listening with rapt attention the details surrounding his mark. Apparently, the actions of the King had not gone unnoticed and the Faith was becoming increasingly worried for the safety of the realm. The appearance of the mark only helped to push them into action. And surprisingly enough, the High Septon agreed to sanction the annulment with haste. And also promised the support of the faith to his ascent to the throne.  Citing the mark as the ‘God’s divine will to reveal the true King of Westeros.’

_Or a convenient pawn in your ploy to get rid of what you can't control…_

 The more he thought about it he had been sure, the power of the Faith of the Seven needs to be curbed, they act on self interest, not in the interest of the gods. No religion should hold more sway than another.

_Another task for another time..._  
  
  It was decided between them that it would be best if no one knew the details of their annulment, so for the time being they went on as if nothing had changed. To all the world she was still the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. By the time his father finds out, Rhaegar hoped to already be wed to his link mate.

 Unfortunately things needed to happen, and happen soon. It was in the last part of her resting period that Elia found out she was again with child, only this time Rhaegar was sure it was not by him. He had no reason to lay with her, that was the whole point of dissolving the marriage so early in the first place. Luckily Rhaegar had also stood witness to Arthur and Elia recite their vows to one another in a private ceremony that was officiated by the septon that resided on Dragonstone. It didn't matter that he had sworn vows of service to Aerys Targaryen. Arthur no longer served Aerys Targaryen. As suggested by Elia, Rhaegar had begun accepting oaths of fealty on Dragonstone.  It had only been a handful to be sure, but the entire staff on Dragonstone had sworn eagerly, as had Oswell, Elia, Arthur and Jon Connington. All of whom knew of his mark. All of whom swore to secrecy.

As Rhaegar sat there taking in his surroundings, he let his eyes wander to the table hosting the Northern Lords and their bannermen. The Lady Lyanna was there, dressed in a blue gown that complimented her porcelain skin. _Skin like milk. . ._ He watched as her older brothers socialized, and his cousin Robert tried and failed at wooing the she-wolf. When at last she accepted his offer to dance, Rhaegar could not help but feel a sense of rage, watching him lead her to the floor for a dance. He wanted to do something,  he wanted to be the one leading her to the floor, but he knew he could not. Not while his father sat in attendance. And from what he could see, his father was not planning to retire just yet. He would bide his time in silence.

 It was not much longer before his eyes were drawn back to the girl, who was still dancing with Robert. . .

_How long is this damn song?_

 He was sure he was being unreasonable, but he could swear that his cousin’s hands were roaming over the lady in a way that suggested she was uncomfortable.

  He was finding it difficult to just sit there and observe the scene, and was about to send Arthur to intervene, when she abruptly stepped away from Robert. He could not be sure what the context of the words she spoke to him were but he was certain they were not kind. As soon as she was done speaking to him she turned on her heels and marched back to the table occupied by her kin, and continued her rant at her older brother Eddard.

   _He must be the one who suggested the match..._

  Now that she was seated again,  he decided it was time to send for his harp, and have Lord Whent announce him. He had composed the Song at Summerhall on his last visit, and even though he was dedicating it to the occasion, he had chosen it as a way to honor the Lady of Winterfell for her bravery earlier that evening. He wanted to know if she would be able to tell. He definitely hoped that she would.

   He was prepared to keep looking if he had to, but with every moment in the Lady Lyanna’s proximity he became more certain he had been right about the Starks. It had to be her.

* * *

  The final piece of the puzzle came into play about a moon’s turn before they set sail for King’s Landing, firmly convincing Rhaegar that his betrothed was indeed related to House Stark. And he was sure it had to do with their selective gene pool.

_And everyone thinks that we are the only ones obsessed with keeping magic in our blood._

 If the information was correct, House Stark has been trying to create a powerful line ever since they began their conquest of the North eight-thousand years ago. And it always tied with the taking of a daughter… and Rhaegar knew for a fact that House Stark meant to do the same with House Targaryen. It was written in the Pact of Ice and Fire.

   _A pact that we have yet to honor…_ a thought that left a bitter taste in his mouth. But hopefully, if the she-wolf and he were a link, this would appease the North.

 It was not lost on him however, this gives the blood of the dragon  the upper hand in this pact, as we will be the one getting a daughter, if his suspicions were correct.

* * *

  After his introduction was made, and he took his place before the guests in attendance, the hall went silent and Rhaegar began his song. A tale of two lovers who were forced to fight to be with one another, whose love saw them through the death of king's and kin, of long twillights and the break of dawn, of sacrifice and joy, and tragedy. He did not recognize some of the words he sang, at some point it was as if he stopped existing and and the song took control of him. He closed his eyes and allowed the melody to  wash over him. While at the same time there were images swimming beneath his lids outlined in a pulsing blue thread. When the song was finally at its end, he opened his eyes and scanned the room hoping that she appreciated it. It had been a gift for her after all. But when they finally settled on her, it was to see her stand and dump her wine over the head of her youngest brother before exiting the hall via the terrace. She did not seem happy, but it was clear that something had affected her, what it was he knew not.

  After a moment of silence the audience hall erupted in applause, and he bowed his head in appreciation. Not wanting to make a show of it, he knew his father would find a way to see treason in this, after all his talent with the high harp was not swordplay, and his father thought that his interest in the harp made him seem weak. It would not do to have a long display of appreciation of this particular talent. So without saying another word, he turned and made his way back to his seat beside his father. As it turned out however, when he reached his seat his father was preparing to depart for the evening.

 “Boy, I think I have spent enough time among the sheep for one evening. I grow weary of all this.” he stated.

 “Shall I escort you to your chambers then father?” he tried not to sound too eager.

 “Nonsense, have you lost your senses? You will stay, and you will watch these traitors, and you will report to me anything you see, I know that Tywin is planning something. These sheep love us not, and I mean to find out which ones are plotting with that Old Lion. Do you hear me, boy?” he asked. His eyes shining with the madness that consumed him.

_The wild fire…_ Rhaegar knew that even though his father had not been at Summerhall the night he was born, the fire touched him all the same. Though his father had pale lilac eyes, he could always see green dancing in them.

 “I shall do as you command, My King.” But the king had already turned from him summoning Ser Jonothor and Prince Luwyn to stand guard of him that evening. He noticed Elia preparing  to leave for her rooms as well, and he turned to bid her good evening.

 “Elia, are you planning to sleep? I have need of a word with you before the games on the morrow.” She paused and turned to him.

 “I do plan on retiring to my chambers, but I could wait up for his grace if it please you?” she said in a hushed tone. To anyone listening, it would sound as if he were planning to call on her for his husbandly duties that evening.

_Only I am not her husband, and we are not intimate…_ He thought about it, and while he did not want to encourage people to believe they are happy in their ‘marriage’ bed, he also knew that he had no choice.

  So he played along. . .

 “I will be there once I am finished here.” taking her hand he pressed his lips to her knuckles and bid her good night. He wanted to go after Lyanna. He wanted to know what had affected her so. But he could not leave just yet. He had to play it cool for a moment, so he decided to check in with Arthur to find out if Ash had any information to share from her evening. He turned to his best friend.

  “What news of the evening?” he asked casually.

  Arthur didn't need any other prompting and began with his report. “The Lady Ashara has had many suitors this evening, and she said she feels that there could be a few promising matches,” he continued… “The Viper is interested, as is The Direwolf it would seem.” He stopped rubbing his chin for a moment. “I feel like the wolf’s reasons though, are completely his own, and have nothing to do with the topic at hand.” Rhaegar lifted his chin to this.

 “What do you mean?” he asked in confusion.

 “Just look, this is their third dance this evening. I have never seen Ash like this in all my life. She is not swept away by young lords, my sister is a predator, Your Grace.” The last part was said as a whisper.

  Arthur had refused to refer to him as anything other than that since swearing him his new vows. But only when the King was not around, and only where others could not hear. Even when Rhaegar had assured him that it was fine to refer to him as ‘My Prince’ Arthur refused. This was the compromise and it was the best he could do.  And Arthur was right, Ashara hadn’t ever really taken an interest in any _one_ particular boy, and she never allowed one to think himself particularly dear to her. So dancing with a man on more than one occasion in a single night was as unheard of as a boy born amidst green flame. He couldn't stop himself from asking.

 “Didn't I see her dancing with the older Stark boy?” he could have sworn that he had.

 “Indeed you did my prince, and I thought that he would have tried to make a move on her, but it was only a brief turn about the room before they made their way over to where the other Starks were seated. She has only danced with myself and Jon Connington since. The rest of them have been with the other Stark boy.” he finished.

 “Well, as interested as I am with all of this, there is another Stark I must needs meet.” He let his thoughts trail off for a moment before adding…

  “The interest from Dorne is the best possible news all evening though. This was what concerned me most.” he paused and thought of something. “I wouldn't particularly mind his help with my cousin Robert. . .” he let the thought trail off, though he was sure Arthur did not miss the hint of jealousy in his tone.

 “Ah, you saw that little display on the floor then, between the Lady Lyanna and your cousin, hmm? I wouldn’t worry too much about it, she was very vocal in her feelings. He had asked her for her favor in the melee , but she denied him. That's when he tried to be handsy with her.” raising his hand to stop anything Rhaegar may have asked. “I won't go into detail because it would seem this conversation is something you are not capable of hearing with a calm head,” he stopped abruptly and Rhaegar was left in shock.

 “Tell me what he said to her Arthur,” he commanded. But to his disappointment Arthur shook his head.

 “You said you want to see about another Stark, then let us go and see about her. If it is so important, you can ask her and she can tell you if she wants. Away from this hall, and away from your idiot of a cousin.” he finished cheekily, gesturing for his king to follow.  They stopped a moment to inform his host he would be taking a walk, and to continue with the celebration, before making for the terrace.


	11. First Encounters of the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be one of my longer chapters, and with any luck the rest of them will also be of similar length. Now that we are getting past the meet and greet stage, I can start building more on the significance of the symbology used for Lya's shield, and Howland's true purpose for joining them at the tourney. 
> 
> So to be clear This chapter will cover Ned and Ash and Rhaegar and Lya, first meet.

**Eddard and Ashara**

 

  
  
  
  “Please do not react. I know you can feel it. I can feel it too, but it will do neither of us any good if we make a scene here in the great hall, I have no idea what is going on, and I do not feel like explaining this to the King.” Those were the first words Ashara said to him when they were away from his family.   
  
 “My Lady, It would be a pleasure to honor your request, though I have to admit, I won't be able to stay in your proximity if we aren’t able to discuss what is happening.” He swallowed trying not to give away the panic he was feeling at the moment.  “How,. . . How long have you had yours?” probably not the best question, but it seemed like the standard icebreaker. It was one of the first questions Lyanna had asked him after all.   
  
 “Since the white raven came from the citadel. I was on Dragonstone with the princess when it happened, but I was unsure of what it was, so I have just kept it covered. I mean, it didn't really do anything until tonight. Until I saw you looking at me from across the Hall. . . Now it’s like a ball of energy urging me to stay beside you. Does that make sense?”   
  
Ned swallowed. It made so much sense. His mark had been nothing like Lya’s, aside from the fact that they were both wolves. Her’s was always cold, and she always felt something through it. Ned’s had always, just been there. Aside from the day he woke with it branded on him. And tonight…   
  
“Does anyone know about your mark?” If there was someone who confided in, perhaps it was the person who shares Lya’s bond… But Ashara just shook her head.   
  
For a moment Ned had forgotten that they were heading for the floor to dance, until she stopped and turned herself to face him and held her hand out for him to take position. She was lovely. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was dance with her for the rest of the evening. But standing here with her, he suddenly felt awful knowing more about their mark than she did. It felt wrong, like he was keeping something life altering from her.   
  


* * *

  
  After their first dance was finished Ned ushered the Lady Ashara off to the side of the room. He knew that she would have to take another dance partner, and he would never presume to take all of her time. But he had to tell her what he knew.   
  
  “I have to tell you something,” he started, but quickly he realized that was a terrible way to start a conversation, so he switched to a different approach. “You say that you know nothing about your mark. I just want you to know that, I am not as in the dark as you. I understand that there are other people who wish to dance with you, but from what I understand no matter what we do, eventually you and I will be a fixture in each other's company. It is for this reason I won't insist we go and have this conversation now.  But if this helps, you are the third person that I can confirm has a mark now. Including myself. And to my knowledge, they all appeared the day the ravens arrived announcing winter.  
  
  Her eyes went wide at this revelation. But before she had a chance to say another word, someone approached them.   
  
 Ned had never had the chance to meet the young lord before, but by his surcoat and arms Ned quickly determined that the man was Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin's Roost. One of Robert’s bannermen and a close friend to the Crown Prince.   
  
 “My Lord, Jon.” Ashara greeted with a smile. “How do you fare this evening?”  
  
 “Lady Ashara,” he nodded, and turned his head toward Ned. “Lord Eddard? Of Winterfell?   
  
 “Indeed, well met Lord Connington.” Ned held his hand out and the Storm Lord accepted it.  
  
“I hope you do not mind, but I was hoping I can steal your partner for a dance My Lord” Ned had no doubt that this was all a show, though he was not sure what the point of it was. Everything in the south is all about the mummery. More people should just say what they are thinking and be done with the theatrics of it all.   
  
  “Not at all, the Lady and I were just having a bit of conversation. I'm afraid I do not possess the same stamina for dancing as she does.” He shot her a shy smile. Before addressing her directly. “It has been a pleasure to share this dance with you, I should be honored if you would see fit to bless me with another later on, if it is not too much to ask.” He hoped that he didn't say too much, or make a fool out of himself, but he was sure of one thing, If he was a link to her, he would be spending much of his time being a fool before her eyes. And suddenly, he did not feel so shy about being near her.   
  
A crow cawed in the distance.

* * *

 

 

 

**The Three-Eyed Crow**

  


 The _Ink Marks_ were a nice touch from the gods. What was more, he did not expect them to resurface. Only it solves nothing, if destiny is certain no matter what, Robert will still rebel against the throne. The girl has gifts she can't possibly understand yet, but she is strong and she will be good for the boy. But it is their combined temperament that is the key.   
  
 The Three-Eyed Crow decided that nothing can be left up to chance this time, so he would watch. When ever he could, where ever he could, he would wait. The girl was more prone to visit the Godswood, and they knew and favored her greatly. She of all her brothers and close kin, has not forgotten the Old Way, if only she knew that it had been her blood to awaken the marks.   
  
The boy was different, he spent much of his time hiding behind those stone walls reading many books and scrolls. Which is exactly where he needed to be, only he had yet to find what has been hidden from him. The Three-Eyed  Crow would have to see that he finds it.   
  
The Quiet Wolf has made great progress with his fallen star, much easier than the other two. But it is just as well, It will do the Silver boy no good to claim her before she presents herself to him.   
  
Switching to a new view, he spotted something very promising. The wolf maid walking alone, and the silver dragon pursues her. Things seem to be moving along splendidly.  And the crannogman played his part perfectly with those squires. It was unfortunate that he was hurt, but the silver boy needed to see her, he needed to see her strength. Tonight I will reveal the next stage to him, and he will reveal the next stage to her.  


* * *

_**The She-wolf**  
_

  
  
  What in the Seven Hells was that Lya?  Since when did you become a weeping maiden? Gods Lya, get it together!      
    
   She scolded herself the entire way from the Hall. It had been bad enough when that oaf insisted that he and she were to be wed, and she allowed it to get to her, but then she had to go and cry over a freaking song! What’s worse, this tourney has yet to even start.   
  
  Its not as if she particularly cared that she may have been seen crying, it was the fact that she already felt exposed to the entire realm. For most of the guests in attendance, it is the perfect opportunity to put on a performance in front of the whole realm, in hopes of being noticed. But for Lyanna, the attention was as unwanted as the dress she forced herself into for the opening feast.   
  
  Yet she could not put words to the feelings that the Princes song evoked in her. She had always loved music, and flowers, and art. In her mind, they were all ways that a person could express themselves. And in the world she lived in, self expression is not always appreciated. So she had secretly begun to covet these things as a child, and her love of these arts has only grown over the years. Though, never in her life had she heard the crown prince play his harp. She had only ever heard stories, whispers actually.   
  
  Outside the air was crisp, the sky inky black and though the stars had come out in force, it was the moon that was the true crowning jewel tonight. From where she stood, the Moon looked as though it were nestled between the ruined towers of Harrenhal, on display for all the realm to see. It almost felt as if the moon came out to greet her as an old friend. Which she supposed they were. Most things of importance in the North, happen in the darkness. The days are shorter than they are in the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. So the moon is as much a part of her as the sun is, sometimes moreso.   
  
   _How had things gone so wrong so fast?_   
  
  She was not supposed to be outside alone, she should be inside enjoying whatever bit of happiness she could find, before she was shipped off against her will, to marry a man who is not for her.   
  
  _He’s here though. . ._   
  
She had known since the moment they rode into camp, maybe even before then. Ever since she had passed the Neck with her Bran and Ben and their banners, there had been an invisible tug, urging her to move more swiftly. She hadn’t told Bran, in truth she hadn’t needed too. She and Brandon spent every moment they could riding, since as far back as she could remember. In fact, it had been Brandon who gave her, her first pony to break. It had been Brandon who taught her how to care for her, and for her saddle. And it had been Brandon who she had her first race with. So when she decided she wanted to ride swiftly, Brandon did not try to stop her. Only making her promise not to go too far, or stray from the King’s Road, and to keep a guard, or Benjen with her.   
  
  So when they were no more than a mile or so away from Harrenhal, she and Benjen had bolted for the castle, in hopes to locate their camp before the rest of their host arrived. Or at least that is what she had told Brandon. The truth was, she was feeling antsy. She had been like this since the night before, and every bone in her body was telling her to make haste, and her mark had been tingling more and more the closer she got.   
  
  The grounds of Harrenhal were massive, and if she was being honest, she had no idea where she was going, but she remembered reading about a massive twenty acre Godswood being housed within the grounds and she couldn't help but be amazed by it. Winterfell is one of the oldest castles in the Seven Kingdoms, and one of the largest, yet our Godswood is sits on only three acres, while the Godswood itself is believed to be around ten-thousand years old. She could only dream of a twenty acre godswood at home in Winterfell. Perhaps if it were that big, she could run away and then Robert would never be able to have her.   
  
   _Wouldn't that be grand…_   
  
  At that moment, her mark began to tingle, and she knew that someone was approaching... it had to be him. Suddenly, she had no idea whether she should turn around and face whatever her destiny was going to throw at her, or if she should keep going and pretend she hadn’t noticed he was approaching. Without thinking things through she decided she would confront him.   
  
 What kind of a decent man runs up on a woman walking alone at night! She was indignant at the thought. He better have a good excuse, because he won't find a damsel in distress in me. She was incredulous…  


* * *

**The Silver Prince**

  
  “Arthur, fall back a few paces when we get closer, I would very much like this introduction to be as easy as possible. I don’t know if she is _her_ and I don't want to scare her away before I have a chance to win her if she is _the_ one. Just because I have always known what destiny requires of me, does not mean I intend to force her into participating if she is unwilling.” He hoped that his words made sense, but Arthur simply nodded and they made their way over the balcony and toward the stairs that lead to the grounds below.   
  
  It took him a bit of time before his eyes found her figure. But she had been walking with her back to them, no escort aside from the moon shining above her head.

 

_Like a beacon drawing me to her. . .  it's now or never. I'll just catch up to her and introduce myself, right!_

 

  His inner pep talk was failing miserably. He was nervous, he knew why, but it mattered not. He had to talk to her, even if for only a moment.   


  Steeling himself with determination he picked up his pace as swiftly and as quietly as possible, without actually running, and made his way in her direction. She seemed to have been in no rush at any rate, and he crossed the distance in no time at all. Just as he was about to announce his presence however she slowed almost to a stop, and spoke aloud. “Is there a fire somewhere that I should be made aware of, or have you committed some crime and are seeking to flee capture? If it is the first, please do speak now, if it is the latter, expect no mercy from me Ser.” and at the last moment, she spun around to address him face to face, and froze.

 

* * *

 

 _Damn your impulsiveness Lyanna! Oh Gods. . . Father is going to kill me._  
  
   How in the Seven Hells did he get so close to her without her knowing? She wanted to back away from him, but she didnt want him to think he held sway over her emotions. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing her scared. Or at least thats what she was prepared for. What she was not prepared for was a melancholic prince who suddenly felt like talking. . .   

* * *

  
  
  
“My Prince,” she proclaimed before blushing the most beautiful shade of pink he had ever seen. He tried to contain his reaction to this, something told him that she would not appreciate having this remarked upon. “I, I uh. . ., I should not have said that,” she stammered, “I meant no offence, It's just, I was not expecting it to be you, I was escaping my brothers, and I thought that it may have been one of them following behind me.” she finally finished.   


  Rather amused by her reaction to him he decided to use her shock to his advantage. Teasingly he responded, “I did happen to notice you assault a young lord earlier this evening, but I admit that is not the reason for approaching you. Though I should say, if there is any danger of a fire this evening, I am certain it would have been started by the fiery maiden standing before me. . . I hope you do not mind my asking, but whatever did my cousin say to you that made you so cross with him?” He could not help but ask. She was here and they seemed to have an easy enough opening to allow such a question so quickly so he seized the moment with no regrets. At the last moment he remembered to smile slightly to let her know he held genuine interest. His broody face could be hard to read sometimes and he wanted his dealings with her to be as transparent as their circumstances could possibly allow.   


   It took her a moment to look around and collect her thoughts he could tell. He could not give name to the myriad of emotions crossing her face in the seconds it took her to decide whether or not to share her burden with him. Ever so quietly she asked, “You saw that then?” and she exhaled deeply as if she had been holding her breath. “Great, now my brothers are going to want to talk to me about my _behavior.”_ she said the last part with animation to note her disagreement with the situation. “How much do you want to know? Just this evening or the whole thing?” She asked unexpectedly.  


 He raised an eyebrow at her, “I was not sure there was more, but I would hear whatever it is you would share if it please you. Are you planning to walk far?” He just wanted to know how much time he would have and whether they needed to find a place more private to talk.

 

 “I was looking for the godswood actually. I hear Harrenhal has one bigger than the one at Winterfell.  I also heard that the heart tree was allowed it's sanctuary while the rest of the riverlands was stripped of them to build the supports for this castle. I always thought that there has to be something magical that drove Harren to build this castle using weirwood, only to dedicate twenty acres of land to a solitary weirwood that had no spiritual connection to the Ironborn.

 

 “It could be that I am swept away by our northern gods, but this castle was put here for a reason, and finished when it was. And do you not find it odd,  no one has been able to hold this seat ever since?”

  “I’ve wondered often if it’s because this place was created with a purpose by the Old Gods.” She slowed down a bit ...“And now that I’m here, I can feel it.” She turned to look at him. “Don’t think me mad.” the look she gave him seemed almost pleading. He could not help but nod his head and reassure her. 

 “I do not think you mad. There are magical places all over Westeros. Dragonstone is one of them, as is Summerhall. . . I was born there, and it is one of the only places I am able to find solace still. The ruins speak to me it feels like. So if you say Harrenhal speaks to you, I believe you. I've heard that Winterfell has its own sort of magic as well, and my Uncle Aemon said the Wall is a magical hinge.” He gave her a warm smile and then gestured toward the wood. “Follow me, I am no stranger to the Godswood here.” at this her eyes went wide.   


 “You follow the Old Gods?” she sounded shocked.   


 “I admit, I do not. But that does not mean I do not respect them.” She nodded in understanding.

 

 “The Targaryen’s accepted the faith of the Seven when my ancestor Aegon was crowned the first King of the Seven Kingdoms, and many of my kin have been more dedicated to the Seven than some of  the others, but I have spent my life studying all there is to know, and there are too many variables to consider for one such as myself to subscribe to any _one_ specific god or faith. I hope that does not offend you.” He wanted to end it there but he felt he had to continue so he pushed on.   


 “I find myself asking often what defines a god?” His thoughts trailed off a bit before he continued.

  “What I know of religion is that people pray for the gods to provide, yet if they do not, someone has to. And as it turns out, we have to provide for ourselves.” He wanted to tell her exactly what he believed, but he needed to know her thoughts on the matter first.

  “I believe that we all have a destiny, and in order for there to be destiny, there has to be something bigger than myself at work.  I just can't say that the Seven are the true gods any more than I can say that the Old Gods are.” He thought about all of the research he’d done over the past year, and how much of it was centered around the Weirwoods and the Old Gods and quickly added, “However, I admit that as of late I have found myself reading more and more of the Old Gods and the Weirwoods  and it has brought me to a specific conclusion: I do believe ,if there is any power, it comes from this earth, and if your gods are connected to this earth, how can I deny them?” the more he thought on things he was certain this was the truth.

 

 “Everyone will at some point try to claim credit for one great deed or another in the name of their God, but it’s  men who do these deeds. And we freely give that power to the gods like the smith and the warrior who can not be found beside you on the field of battle.”

  
_What defines a god?_  
  
 Power. . .  And the weirwoods have been drinking the blood of the land since the Dawn Age. If there is power to be found in this world, in this land. That power belonged to these trees.   


* * *

_S_ he had gotten lost in his words. . . _Was he really here having a conversation with her about the validity of the Old Gods?  
  
_This night so far is not what she had expected it to be, but then again, she hadn't really had any expectations aside from finding out who those squires served, and finding the other half of her link... but conversation with the prince, alone, and in the dark. . . She had no idea what would call the prince to come walk beside her of his own volition, and the more she had thought on the situation, it became clear that he had to be in possession of the other half of the link. But she would not make the first move. She had more at stake than he did. He was the Crown Prince, who could have his father decree for him. She was only the daughter of the Warden of the North. Nothing she could say to her father would convince him to change his mind on a matter once he'd set to it.  
_  
  
__He’s beautiful. . . Stop It!_  


* * *

  She was watching him intensely while he worked through his thoughts before she replied. “You seem to have given this much time, My Prince. I admit, I did not expect this. Most southerners think us barbarians and call us queer for worshiping the trees. But I usually find that ignorance is the issue with most things. The trees themselves are not the gods, My Prince. They are the link to the Gods. The gods are everything, they are everyone, and they are no one. They have no name, no face, no shape, no sex. They can not be quantified or explained. They are the light and the darkness that feed and sustain us and rejuvenates us while we rest. They are the moon and the tides working in tandem, the bees that make honey, and pollinate to create a larger food source that gives back to human and animal alike. I appreciate that you’ve realized that the earth is where power comes from, most seem to forget this rule. What are we if not for the land that sustains us?” She asked but did not wait for a reply before continuing on.

 “The biggest misunderstanding between we who follow the Old Way and those living in the South in the Light of the Seven lies in why we pray.”she explained further.

 “You southerners pray to your gods expecting for them to reach down and provide for you, but the gods do not serve us in that capacity, it is we who serve them. Why do the most devout give credit to the gods?” She asked again but did not wait for a reply,  
  
 “Because the gods demand it, and it is the continued prayer of the devout that are raising up gods. But power my prince, resides where people believe it resides.” She said with a voice that seemed far wiser than her years suggest.

 “Are you powerful, My Prince? Do the gods favor you?”

_Such an odd thing to ask._ And yet, he could not honestly answer the question. He was born surrounded by green flames in a fire that almost ended his family, yet he lived where other men did not.

  "You say you often ask what defines a god, I would ask a different question if I may…” he nodded his head and she continued.

  “What gives the gods power? I say it is us that give god’s power, for without us to believe in them, they would have no influence.   
  
  For example, what if I decided today to place my belief in myself, and tomorrow someone else did the same, and the cycle continued each day following and doubling those numbers as each day passed. Until one day four out of Seven Kingdoms swore to follow me into the lands of always winter believing that we could make it out the other side into a new land untouched by winter and strife. And what happens if through that belief we made it. Would I then be a god?” Her tone one of genuine interest.

 Again she carried on, “Maybe not, but if enough people believe that they survived because they believed in me, that would make me a god to them, would it not?” She looked at him then and smiled sweetly, which just proves my original thought. Power resides where we believe it resides. And based on this logic, I name myself a god. What shall I be the god of?” She asked completely serious.

 “I may have heard something earlier about _winter_ not being over, care to explain that, and can that be considered a power of a god?” He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to admit to overhearing her earlier, but this seemed to be a night of firsts.

 “Winter… yes, indeed.” Her eyes went wide. “That’s clever. I’m the Goddess of Winter.”

_You have no idea…_

* * *

  Lyanna was blabbering, she knew it. But no one had ever taken her serious enough to entertain such a conversation with her in the past. But by the gods, she would shut up if she had some small guarantee that he would not depart as soon as she stopped speaking.  
   
  


* * *

 Her brows began to furrow. “When exactly did you hear this?” She asked suspiciously.

 He sighed… “I was walking the grounds when your party arrived and I overheard this part of your conversation before you both were out of my hearing again.”

 He was absolutely positive he was turning red in the face. He felt like he was on fire. Luckily for him, she seemed to have accepted this as an acceptable answer and nodded in understanding.

 “Forgive me My Prince, it is not often I get to entertain these types of conversation, and I let the topic run away from me. I hope I didn't bore you… I would like to thank you for showing me the way, I would have been looking forever.”

  
_On the contrary…_ he thought pleasantly surprised by the response she had given. He decided to respond with a nod of his head. He wasn’t ready to speak yet. His hand was burning, and his palms were itchy.

 They walked in silence for a time until they came upon the entrance to the wood, and he could delay talking no longer. “It's quite dark in there Lady Lyanna, are you sure you mean to go in there tonight?” he had to know. He could not just let her enter the wood by herself with no torch. To his relief she shook her head, and turned to him.

  
 “I merely wanted to know where it was. I plan to come here with my brother and a friend while we are at Harrenhal,” she paused. “You wanted to know what happened with Lord Robert.” she sighed.

  
 “You and he are betrothed are you not? He prompted her. Hoping that this would help her push through whatever it was that was making her hesitate. And it must have worked because her eyes shot to his immediately.

  
 “We are most certainly not betrothed! My father insisted I meet him, he had made an offer about a year ago, but he promised that he would not make me wed him until after my sixteenth name day, should he accept his offer at all. I have another year before anything is certain.” She replied indignantly. And then in a lower, more desperate tone she added, “I was almost certain father planned to call the entire thing off, but then when we were dancing he told me that our maester sent word to him that it was as good as done,” she would not cry, of that he was certain.  
  
_So Lord Rickard had received his message…_ he could not help but take note of the confirmation that her betrothal had not been made official…  
  
  She went on. “He asked me to wear my favor you see, In the melee tomorrow but I declined him, stating that my brothers will wear my favor. I assumed this would be an acceptable reason to decline him, instead however he seemed to become offended by it. Please understand, I care not for his feelings. I find it best that I not lead the man on. . . I thought, if Ned liked him so much, there would be a reason for it. And maybe, just maybe he would appreciate that I was honest with my intentions. I suppose he did not appreciate my attempts, because he then began pulling me too close to him, which is why I commanded him to unhand me. That was when he implied that I was soon to be his wife, and that I belonged to him.” Rhaegar could not mistake the fury that flashed in her eyes.  
  
_Eyes like Valyrian steel rimmed by silver. Eyes like a storm. ._ . and in that moment he was sure she was his link barer. He didn’t even need to see it. Her eyes were all the confirmation he needed.

  
 He was on fire. He knew that something with Robert was off. He had sent a rider to deliver his request to Lord Stark in hand, and no lord would openly deny the crown prince. For the maester to be making arrangements regarding the betrothal of Lord Stark’s daughter is highly unusual as well. It should be her Lord Father conducting these matters. Something is going on in the background, and Lyanna is stuck in the middle of it. Of this at the very least, he was sure. Arthur had been right to not tell him what had transpired between them while he was still close enough to confront him. He did not know what to say to her on the matter so he nodded his head in understanding.  
  
 “So, you do not wish to be wed to Lord Robert then?” he wasn’t sure if the question was appropriate or not, but he found her answer to be important to him.

  
 “Nay, I have no designs on the man. He’s already got a bastard on some poor girl in the Vale, and I hear he does nothing to see to her well being, not to mention the stories I have heard in regards to his two younger brothers. Poor Renly, he is stuck alone with his brother Stannis who I hear was never taught how to smile. While Robert is here at a tourney whoring and drinking, his pack is alone.” she looked as if she wanted to say more but didn't. He didn't pressure her to go further despite his unyielding curiosity to know more.

  
 “You must be very close to your own brothers by the way you speak of ‘the pack’.” he liked the thought of having a pack. Wolves were loyal to a fault, and bonded with their chosen mate for life.

 _And wolves are made for winter. . ._ a familiar voice whispered in his head. His dragon…

 At this, she beamed at him. “My pack is everything. My father taught us that a pack is only its strongest when it's together. _‘Listen pups, Winter is Coming, and in winter we must stick together, look out for one another. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.’_ he’d tell us. These are the words that define the north, they define the pack. Not just those of Stark blood, but those of the blood of the First Men, the men and the women of the north, whether they are Bears, Lizard Lions, Merman, Giants, or Unicorns, they are all a part of our pack, and the pack protects their own.”

 Her words sent a shiver down his spine. Such a simplistic way to think, but the words themself were powerful. He needed to understand though what the motivation for sending her to Storm’s End would be if staying together was so important. Based on what she had just told him, it made all the sense in the world that the Starks have not wed south of the neck more than a handful of times since conquest. And only ever very selectively. Absentmindedly he considered that this woman standing before him shared his blood, a distant cousin.

  
“I suppose that would include myself then would it not?” he could not help but ask. And when she looked at him in confusion he explained. “We share distant kin, you see. On more than one occasion. Black Ally Blackwood, and the Lady Melantha Blackwood, are both kin to me. House Targaryen is no stranger to House Blackwood. A look of understanding crossed her features.

  
 Behind him he could sense Arthur in the distance. “Will you be returning to your tent soon?” he stopped to take her in once more before departing from her company.

  
 “I was thinking to head there now actually. Robert is probably going to have Brandon out a while longer, and knowing Ned he will be wanting to get back soon, which means that Benjen will be looking for me. And I must see to my father’s Bannerman Lord Howland before I retire for the night.” she rattled off her reasons to depart as if to convince herself to go. He could not help but smile at the thought of her being as reluctant as himself to depart each others company. “Will you be competing on the morrow my prince?”she asked, and he shook his head.

  
 “Not on the morrow, nay. I will be competing in the last days of the joust. I will be in the stands beside my father the king. Are you planning to attend?” She nodded and gave a bright smile.

 “Aye, I shall be in attendance…” she let her sentence trail off as if she were contemplating finishing it. So he took the chance to encourage her.

 “But?. .” he prompted gently.

 She shook herself with resolve. “But I have a mind to join the horse race before the joust begins.” and she was absolutely serious. Somehow he found himself leaning in toward her. Her scent lingering on the wind. Crisp, like a cold winter day, and sweet but not too sweet, just enough to cut through the bitterness lying beneath. _Like the bite of Iron. . ._ The scent was not unfamiliar to him. Though where he had recognized it from, he could not say.  


* * *

   
  Her mind was reeling from all the implications of this conversation. His body language, her own body language, and this damn mark was making it next to impossible to concentrate on anything he was saying. A myriad of thoughts crossing her mind in the blink of an eye.   
  
  
  
  How is this happening? He is married, he can't be my link. . . there has to be a mistake  .    
  
  
_A silver dragon, of Ice and of Fire. . . Well, if he is not the epitome of a Silver Dragon I don't know how much clearer the dreams can be._   
  
  
  
 Does he know? This simple question is the one that would drive her to insanity. Surely if he knew, he would say something. Why else risk approaching her?   


* * *

  
  
   He’d had no interest in attending the races on the opening day up until now, but suddenly he found himself sorting through his obligations on the morrow, hoping he could be there to see her race. “Do you believe yourself to be a skilled rider then?” He knew she was, but he decided it best to feign ignorance, anything he could do to break the silence that he had let build between the two of them.

 “I'll forgive that question, My Prince. As I know your ignorance on the matter cannot be helped. With you being held captive here in the South and all that. You would not know what it truly means to ride well unless you have lived in the North.” Again she flashed that wolfish smile hers, knocking him off his guard.

 “My Lady is too modest, surely.” he teased. He found that he was quite comfortable conversing with her. A feat that does not happen often with him. “I must admit, I have not been North as of yet, but I desire to travel there soon.” It was his time to shock her it would seem. After all, it is not every day that Targaryen royalty rides north.

 “I am sure my lord father would welcome his highness whenever you would call upon him.” she blushed prettily. Though he was not sure if he had caught her off guard with his proclamation. He wanted to reach out to her, but he found himself pulling back slightly. She affected him and he was sure he was masking it horribly.

 “I shall keep Winterfell in mind should I find myself riding North. As for the races, I had not thought to attend myself, though if my obligations permit, I may have to stop in and see how you fair.” He took another look around the grounds before realizing that they had been alone far too long.

 Looking her in the eyes. . . “I will look for you on the morrow my lady, and I bid you good evening.” he turned to go, but decided to ask, “Are you sure you would not like me to escort you back to your tent?” He knew she was capable of defending herself, but it went against everything he knew to let her walk away alone.

  
 Just as she was about to answer her friend from earlier that day came out from the trees as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And she did not seem at all bothered by this. “It appears that I already have an escort My Prince. Thank you so much for your offer though. And I also hope to see you on the morrow. Sleep well.” She gave a curtsy toward him and bowed her head.

 “Rhaegar, please. I would hope you would call me Rhaegar while it is just the two of us. I find there is no need for such formalities at all times, My lady.” he wasn’t sure why he just said that, but he wanted her to use his name, not his title.

  
 “Very well, Rhaegar. Only I shall make the same request of you in return, if you insist on dropping titles so must I. Please call me Lyanna, I'm a horrible lady and I have no desires to be one.” she finished with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. No doubt she expected him to be scandalized by this revelation, and maybe he would have been, had he not seen her with a tourney sword in her hands mere hours before. It was his turn to blush, in the past thirty minutes, he had said more to this girl than he had to Elia in the entire year they were married. And he found that he still did not want this moment to end. But he knew he needed to speak with Elia before he retired for the evening, so reluctantly he bowed his head in respect to her, and bid her a good night and safe travels.

  
 As he watched her turn in the opposite direction from which they were heading, he couldn't help but to notice her rubbing the skin on her left wrist. And somehow, he had reached for his own and was rubbing it when Ser Arthur approached. He braced himself for the onslaught of comments he knew were bound to come from his best friend.

 


	12. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rickard receives his rider, and is shocked by the contents of the message, Rhaegar changes plans again. Howland continues with his task and Lyanna learns a bit more about her mark.

**The Alpha Wolf**

  
 His children had been gone little over a sennite when the rider arrived with the first message. He had been in his solar going over some scrolls he’d received, when his steward came to him saying a rider had come with a message only to be delivered into his hands alone. This gave him pause, it did not come about often that he received correspondence not fit for a raven. Quickly he stood from his chair, and made his way from the keep, to the front gate where he could receive this rider.   
  
 As he approached, he could tell immediately that the rider was not a northmen and by his appearance he had been riding long and hard. He did not wait for Rickard to speak before announcing his purpose however.   
  
 “My Lord, I bring sensitive news from afar. If I may,” he made move to approach but waited for permission. Rickard Nodded his ascent.   
  
  
  Reaching out he took the parchment in hand and turned it to see the seal. _The three headed dragon of House Targaryen…_ Suddenly chills went through him. He looked up to the courier. “Will this sender be expecting a response?”   


 The boy shook his head, “No My Lord.”  
  
 “Very well, I shall have a room prepared for you so you may rest this night and a hot meal brought to you. You may leave on the morrow unless you have other business that keeps you. My steward will show you the way to your quarters.”   
  
 “No business keeps me, save this one task. I appreciate your hospitality My Lord, and should you wish to send reply, even though none is warranted I would gladly carry it back for you.” He bowed his head in respect before following the steward to the guest wing.   
  
 Unsure of the contents of the message, Rickard quickly made his way for the Godswood, where he was sure to be alone and without prying eyes. Once inside the safety of the wood, he quickly made for the heart tree and set himself down on  low lying branch and cracked the seal. Whatever was in this message, he was sure it would change the plans he had been carefully crafting these past few years.   
  
 Only, he had not expected the message to be written in the hand of the Crown Prince.

 

 “Pact of Ice and Fire. . . Your maester plays his own game. . . Delay Baratheon.”

  
 His eyes went wide at the implication written within this message. And yet, Lyanna was already gone and Brandon had instructions to place Lyanna and the young Lord in each others company during the event.   
  
 Something about this bothered him though. How could the crown prince aide with the pact, and how can this benefit Lyanna, his little brother was just a babe, only five years old. . .  unless the rumors were true and Princess Elia is in fact barren. . . Suddenly a new hope sprung forth. He decided he would write to Brandon straight away and send the boy back with it. And he would have to do something about his maester. The prince sent this message via rider, and not raven, yet mentioned the maesters intentions.   
  
  _He wants me to secure the path for communication via raven. .  ._  and he can't do that if maester Walys is the one tending the ravens… If the Prince thought to make overtures regarding the Pact of Ice and Fire, then Rickard would make sure that the information would be safeguarded until such a time as more answers could be brought forth.  


* * *

**The Silver Prince**

  
   
  “Say it and get it over with, but get it done before we reach the castle.” he said with an exasperated sigh.   


  “What would you like me to say, Your Grace?” he said with a smirk. “I was unaware that you had such an extensive vocabulary,” he teased.   


  Rhaegar  rolled his eyes at this, “Is that the best you can come up with? You knew very well that I intended to have a conversation with her.” he was aware of the blush creeping up his cheeks, but there was no sense in trying to keep it from Arthur.  


 “I will not tease you much, Your Grace. But in all the years I have known you, this is truly the first time that I have seen you smile, without being forced, and more than once in a single conversation.” he nudged him with his elbow. “Tell it true, you believe she shares your link do you not? You have not said as much, but you have been singularly focused on the girl since she rode into camp this afternoon.” He did not want to respond to that. He knew that she was his link, but it felt wrong confessing it before their bond was secured. He didn't want to jinx it. It seemed like a shot in the dark that he would find her this quickly, an impossibility and yet almost a reality. He just needed to wait a bit longer.   


  With a sigh he responded to his friend. “I cannot tell you the answer for true, for we have not secured a bond as of yet.” he hoped that this answer would suffice. He never confessed to his friends that the bond requires physical contact. “I believe she is though. I have not seen evidence of her mark, but there is a reaction to her blood I think. This is why I need to go to Elia. We need to make plans and some plans need to change.” he glanced around before making for Elia’s chambers. Oswell announced him and let him in. “Oswell, please join us. You’ll need to hear this as well.”

 

  After telling everyone that he was certain of Lyanna, he suggested that they postpone plans to call the great council, at least if he was able to confirm his suspicions. If he was correct, rather than moving on King’s Landing right away, they would make for the North with all haste to discuss the situation with Lord Rickard. From everything he knew of the man, a marriage to the Crown Prince should satisfy his southern ambitions at the very least, but Rhaegar had hope that he could confide in him the prophecy and the threat that they are all facing, and the necessity to join their houses and prepare for winter. To his surprise they were all on board, so they quickly moved to planning how to get Lyanna and Rhaegar together again without raising suspicions. Elia even offered to invite her to sit with her during the tourney in the following days, which Rhaegar could not deny seemed like a great idea. After that, they decided that there was little else to be done, and recognizing Arthur and Elia’s need to say a proper farewell to one another, he excused himself taking Oswell with him when he went.   
  


* * *

  


 That night he dreamt; eyes of violet and eyes the color of Valyrian Steel so dark they seemed almost black, rimmed by deep indigo. He dreamt of dragons being born on an island in the smoking sea, he dreamt of wolves moving swiftly through a wood in the deep of night, of Ice and Fire colliding, and weirwood trees covering the land anew, he dreamt of a dark haired boy dressed in black standing atop the Wall beside two women whose visage was unknown to him, standing strong hand in hand. _‘I swear it by bronze and iron, I swear it by ice and fire.’_ he heard as a whisper on the wind. He dreamt of a boy dark of hair standing beside a girl who looked similar to Lyanna in front of a weirwood, swearing vows to one another in secret. They sealed their vows before the heart tree and in the throws of their passion he heard a name… ‘ _Jace’_ pass through her lips before watching her birth two dragons alone in the darkness of a crypt. Two girls… He woke with a jerk, _what did I just see?_   


He was shook to his very core. He has only ever known of one Jace visiting Winterfell, and that would be his ancestor Jacaerys Velaryon, but he had been promised to his cousin Baela from a young age. And there were no trueborn daughters of House Stark in Winterfell during the hour of the wolf… He rose and opened the flap of his tent. It was still early yet, and the camp was still quiet.   


  Going back to his bed, he could not help but think that there is something about this last detail that has been missed by the historians. If his suspicions were correct, there has already been a union of Ice and Fire. But what does that mean for the prophecy? He needed to speak with Marwyn. He needed to speak with Lord Stark. It would be a long day. His mind began to drift again back to the dream of the three standing on the wall, and could not help but wonder if that was Rhaenys standing beside the dark haired boy and the silver haired girl.

  
_The dragon has three heads…_ the time was near. Before settling back into sleep, he decided to write down the visions he received.   
  


* * *

**The Raven's Agent**

  
 He decided to leave the Hall shortly after Lyanna and the Prince did. The wolf pack had scattered across the Hall, Ned was still with the Lady Ashara, Brandon was with Robert having a drinking competition, and the Young Pup was planning to head back to his tent, so it seemed as good a time as any to make his way back to the lake to check in with the Gods.    
  
 Luckily enough, the grounds were quiet and empty enough, that he was sure he would be able to move in and out of camp unmolested by another set of squires. The Crannogmen may be small and keep to their bogs, but they are not craven, and they are more than capable of protecting themselves. But they did not seem to notice that, and neither did the she-wolf. Though if he were honest, it was sheer coincidence that she happened upon them when she did. He had not thought to place himself in the path of danger so soon.   
  
  _But_ _Destiny will happen whether we are actively working toward it or not… And it was true. After everything he had seen on the Isle through the Gods Tree, there is no possible way to refute that fact._  
  
 Even with the helping hand of the Ink Mark, destiny is inevitable. Which is why limited transparency is necessary in this story. And that is precisely the reason for Howland to go to the lakes shore tonight. But first, it is almost time to pick up the she-wolf from her conversation with the dragon prince. If he is right, she will be outside the Godswood by now.   
  
 So that is where his feet carried him. Through the shadows, and across the grounds, until he was standing on the opposite side of some bushes close by where the Prince and the she-wolf were talking. The Lady Lyanna was painted silver by the moonlight. Only her hair loose behind her.   
  
 They kept a respectable distance, but it was plain to see that they both knew the truth of their fate. Yet he noticed they had not sealed the bond. That’s good, it's not time yet. Soon, but not yet. Howland still hadn’t figured out a way to speak with the prince alone, though he had a feeling that the opportunity was already presenting itself by way of Lyanna.   
  
_We shall see…_  
  
Just then, he heard them making their farewells, so he used the opportunity to present himself, and offer to escort Lyanna back to her tent. Of course she still has no idea they will be making a detour, but it won't make much of a difference anyway. In fact, he was sure that she could benefit from an offering after her conversation with the Stag Lord. And it's past time Lyanna starts talking about her mark. She and her Dragon Prince are the king and queen of missed opportunities, because they don't take action when it matters the most… This will have to stop now, if they hope to have any shot at success in the wars to come.  And he knew just what to say to Lyanna to make her start talking.  


* * *

**The She-wolf**

  
  She’d been fidgeting with her mark when he’d brought up that he had seen her mark. _So much for keeping it hidden…_ she’d thought she’d been doing a pretty decent job keeping it concealed up until then. _Perhaps I should tie a ribbon around it . . ._ she dismissed the thought as soon quickly as it had come. She knew that was futile, it had been tingling ever since she’d arrived, and she hadn’t been able to keep her hands off of it.  This is why she needed to know what it was that the crannogman knew. It seemed however that he would not say any more. The man who refused to share what he knew stood in complete contrast with the shy lad she had rescued from three rogue squires earlier that evening. This of course, only made her only want to ask more questions of him. . .   
  
  “You should ask the prince, the next time you speak with him of the cost. . . the cost of having foresight into one's own destiny.” _What exactly is that supposed to mean?_ As if he were able to hear the questions rattling around in her head, he gestured for her to follow him.   
  
 “Your brother Eddard offered me a place in his tent.” the thought made her heart warm.  Ned had always been the most considerate of her two older brothers. He has father's temperament… Always steadfast and compassionate where others are concerned.   
  
 “So is that where we are heading now? I confess I was planning to seek out Benjen and apologize to him for my reaction earlier.” She couldn't hide the shame she felt at having taken her frustration out on him. In truth, she had been caught off guard when the prince began to play, still reeling from her conversation with Robert. So when Ben called her out for allowing the song to affect her, all she wanted to do was disappear. She was in the wrong, and she knew it.   
  
  Howland paused to consider her, “Worry not Lady Lyanna, the little pup is well. I dare say he was not phased by it at all.” he continued walking, gesturing for her to follow. “Before I retire for the evening, I thought to go to the Gods Eye.”   
  
  _The Gods Eye? . ._   
  
 “How exactly do you plan to do that? No one visits there.” she asked incredulously.   
  
  He smiled at her then, a smile that suggested that he knew a secret she was not privy to. “There seems to be much that My Lady does not know.  What you say is true, not many have visited the Isle, because not many have access. But you mistake me. We are not going to the Isle. . . not tonight. We go only to the water’s edge. One does not need to look upon the faces to commune with the gods. The lake will suffice, it is the lifeblood of the Isle afterall.”   
  
 “Not tonight?” He had left the rest unsaid, and now she could not help herself. Ever a creature of curiosity, she decided she would indeed accompany him on his mission to the Gods Eye.   
  
 “Why do I get the feeling that there is something going on, and it was no coincidence that you ended up attending this tournament?” She couldn't help it, there had been something tugging at her consciousness. Howland knows about the marks, and he speaks so cryptically at times. Never really giving a concrete answer if he can help it. She had resolved then and there to get to the bottom of things.   
  
  When they got to the water’s edge, he knelt down on the banks and pulled from his belt what looked like a bronze sickle. It was old, she recognized it from some of the books she read while researching her mark.   
  
 ‘ _The Marsh king’s are related to the Children of the Forest and the Greenmen.’_ Ned had said that day in the library. And standing here on the banks of the Gods Eye, she was starting to think that there was some truth in that assertion.   
  
 “Did you bring your blade with you?”   
  
  She stood there a moment, letting his words sink in. “My blade?. . Forgive me Lord Reed, I’m not sure I understand your question.” she admitted.   
  
 “The blade your mother left you, the blade that connects you to your gods.” he supplied as an answer.   
  
  _Of course, what had she thought he meant?_   
  
  As it turned out, she had. She was not sure why she'd decided to bring it with her before leaving for the feast. Perhaps it was due to the incident with Howland earlier in the day.  Perhaps not, but suddenly she was glad she did. Only, there was no Weirwood on or near the bank of the lake and she wasn't sure why she would have need of it.

  
  As if on queue, Howland beckoned to her to come kneel beside him. “I suspect that you have questions. . . Rest assured, there are answers. I will help to answer what I can, the best that I can, but you must know that you are not the only one who’s deserving of answers.  For that reason, some questions will have to wait.” She nodded. This is about as much as she could have hoped for, so she would be respectful of his request, and try not to push. Making her way over to where he knelt, she settled herself down beside him. Turning to her, he made a sweeping motion with his hands and began with his explanation.   
  
  “Just because you see no tree, does not mean that the gods are unable to hear us. The trees are an extension to the Gods, and not the gods themselves, as you are already aware. In the North, the Old Magics have been around since the dawn age. Greenseers, Wargs, Skinchangers. These terms are not so strange to our people, though the gifts are rarely given. Even more rarely is the gift of Greensight given. Only one man in a thousand is born a Skinchanger, and only one Skinchanger in a thousand can be a Greenseer. And it is the most powerful of the Greenseers who see through the trees, and help to guide those of us willing to listen.”   
  
  “The God’s Eye is a sacred place, guarded since the time of the Pact during the Age of Heroes by the Green Men. Every tree on the isle was given a face, to bare witness to the pact between the Children of the Forest and the First Men. It was after the signing of the Pact, that we of the blood of the First Men adapted our beliefs and began to follow the Old Gods. And this isle has been sacred to the gods since. The water on this lake has drank more blood than any tree north of the Neck, especially during the Dance of Dragons. Just as the pool that lay beneath the canopy of the Heart Tree in the Godswood of Winterfell, these waters give back to the gods as they nourish the trees on the isle.”Just then it dawned on her what he had meant.   
  
_He wants to make his offering to the water._   
  
  She nodded in understanding, and pulled her dagger from her bodice. She thought about Ned, and Ben and Bran, and she thought about her mark, and how it had been tingling since she arrived, and she thought about Robert and all he had said, and suddenly she was sure of her intentions. Steeling herself, she drew the sharp edge across her palm drawing a line of blood, and then she released her intentions to the gods, along with her blood offering into the waters of the God’s Eye.   
  
  Once she was done she stood and turned to Howland, thankful that he had brought her and shared this information with her and offered him her arm. He took it and they turned to walk back to camp. On the way there, he told her more about his time south of the neck, prior to his arrival at Harrenhal.

  
  That Night, Lyanna sat in her tent with her little brother Ben and Howland discussing plans to avenge Howland, and they all eventually decided that Lyanna would enter the joust and challenge the knights whose houses those squires represented. Once the games were through on the morrow and the camps quieted down, they would go out in search of the right pieces of armor to fit her.   



	13. Opening Events

# Lyanna III

She woke with a jolt, unsure of her surroundings and feeling out of place. Her head was swimming with Images, the words of her friend still haunting her from the night before.  
  
  
The night before… her thoughts began to trail back to the evening of the feast and her walk with the Crown Prince.  
  
  The crown prince. . .  
  
 What had she been thinking? It's a wonder that Bran and Ned and Robert weren't  already inside her tent demanding answers for storming out of the Hall last evening. But she could not make herself care. Something about the Prince’s song reached into her gut and ripped her open, exposing her to the world.  One moment she had been sitting there joking with her brother and plotting with Lord Reed, and in the next, the prince had lit an inferno that burned away all that she was, leaving behind a husk of who she had once been. Transforming her into a weeping maid, and damn Ben for calling her out.

_Of course he had noticed! I'm not done with you yet Benjen…_  
  
  She was not mad at him, not truly. It was the way between the two of them. After Bran and Ned went off to foster, they had only themselves for companionship. As a result they had become thick as thieves. Sometimes, their father joked that she and Ben were twins, but that she had  wanted to be born with the cold, so she tricked the winter winds into one last storm and then ripped her way into the world. Leaving Ben to hold their den until it was time for him to come too.  
  
 Of course everyone knows that is not the way things work, but there was a kind of poetry to it all. Lyanna had always believed that she had a special connection to the winter. And perhaps she did, because for as long as she could remember she has been correctly predicting the changing of seasons. Even before the Citadel could firmly declare it. It had become a kind of game between her and Ben and sometimes father would play along with them too. Unlike most of the children within the walls of Winterfell, Lyanna never felt weak or sick during the coldest months. It did the opposite. Each time the seasons changed so too would Lyanna. It seemed to strengthen her and nurture her. Even her hair would grow almost twice as quickly as it did in the summer months.

 Breaking away from those thoughts, she made her way for her chest of clothes. She planned to join the Horse Races this afternoon, and then go to the joust. She wanted to take part in that too, but she knew she had better chances of convincing the host to cancel the tourney than she did of entering the lists. But no one would deny her a horse race. Not even Brandon.

 

_Especially not Brandon_ . . . she thought about it, feeling a wicked smile stretch across her face. She chose a pair of white riding leathers, and at the last moment, she reached for a grey riding dress to match. This way, she wouldn't scandalize the whole of the Seven Kingdoms at the sight of her riding astride. She would never understand the way these southerners treated their women.  
  
 She was just leaving her tent when Howland and Benjen approached. “We were just coming to see if you wanted to break your fast with us before the races.” Howland explained.  
  
“How did you-,” she almost asked, knowing that she had not mentioned it to either of them last night while they were in her tent after she returned with Howland. But then she remembered what Howland had said to her during their walk.  
  
_‘Destiny will happen whether you actively work toward it or not. That is why it's destiny.’_

 The Crannogman would say no more than that. No matter how many times she had pled with him  and promised that she would not work against what the gods had chosen for her. _Truly she would not have._ But he would not relent, and she was forced to accept his decision.  
  
“Why did you not tell me sooner that you had a purpose here and that Ned and I are linked to that?” She wanted to know the answer desperately. Ever since the marks appeared she had been reading every bit of documentation she could get her hands on, but she still had so many questions. And with little progress. Her biggest issue was trying to figure out how to locate her link barer. Except all she found was more information on those known to bare a link, bonded and non bonded alike.

 The idea that the little Crannogman had knowledge of mine own and Ned’s destiny was the single most exciting thing she had heard since the mark had shown up nearly a year ago.  
  
  After she broke her fast, she made her way over to her Bran’s tent, she knew that she wanted him there to support her, and he would be upset if she just headed to the races without telling him of her intentions. As it turned out, he was already aware and had her mare in hand when she finally came into view of his tent.  
  
He greeted her with a wide smile. One he typically only reserved for her. She and Bran were two sides of the same coin. Father claimed that the wolf blood ran hotter in the two of them than it had in Ned and Benjen, and for all that she knew, he was right. Brandon hated the idea of being forced into a life of duty. He wanted to travel, and leave all the responsibilities of a first born son behind him. Brandon was passionate in a way that even Lyanna could not understand. He never sat still if it could be helped, and when he was in a mood there would be no calming him until he was ready.  
  
 The biggest issue thus far had of course been Brandon’s love of women, especially with his impending wedding to Catelyn Tully in the next months. It seemed as if the closer his time came, the more he sought out the company of a different woman. Barbrey Ryswell was the most recent proof of Brandon’s transgressions. Though the girl should have known better. Even Lyanna knew that her father would never sanction the match over that of Catelyn Tully. What's worse is that the girl believed that Brandon had loved her, and had claimed he wanted to wed her. Even her lord father had known it was a falsehood. Brandon had no intention to wed at all, and would have little need of such promises to bed the girl. She had been following him around for years while he had fostered in the Rills. And her father had been aware that there was talk of trying to trap Brandon into a marriage. In the end, it mattered not, father arranged a marriage for the girl to the son of another of his Bannermen, and the betrothal to Catelyn Tully went on.  
  
 “Little sister, I thought you may want to take Winter to the Horse Races this morning.” he said to her beaming with pride.  
  
 “I may be interested in going, tell me dear Bran, will you be challenging me if I should choose to enter?” she asked, though she knew he would not. He was swift, and of a mind with Storm, his own courser, but he could not beat Lyanna. His beast was magnificent, but Brandon was tall and built, while Lyanna was of medium height and of a lean build. This only helped her to pick up speed when she needed to, and her smaller frame helped to conserve the energy of her mount. Genetically Brandon was born at a disadvantage in comparison to her in this regard. Though if anyone were to keep pace with her, it would be him.  
  
 “I would not dream of taking this one small victory from you little wolf.” he ruffled her hair and continued, “ I will be jousting and participating in the melee, while you will be stuck in the stands jealous. It would be cruel of me to deny you this bit of freedom would it not?”  
  
 He was right, she would be miserable having to watch him joust, only he had no idea that she had no intention of just sitting around spectating. He had the chance to do the right thing by Howland, and he didn't cease it. . .  So she would. Not wanting to give anything away, she smiled her most devious of smiles and accepted his olive branch.  
  
 “Too right, dearest Bran. It will be hard for me to accept, but thankfully the Gods saw fit to bless me with the most chivalrous of brothers who always puts mine own needs before his own.”  
  
 It was their way with each other. Of course they could just speak plainly, but where is the fun in that?  
  
 Approaching Winter, she quickly noted that Brandon had her saddle already fastened, and she was brushed and fed. She ran her hand over her snout in greeting. “Are you ready girl? These southerners have never known Winter like us, shall we show them who comes for them?”  
  
 As if in understanding, Winter whickered lightly at her and turned so she was facing the direction of the races. “I suppose that means she is ready then.” Brandon chuckled and she beamed at him. “Then let us be away, Winter is Coming for these summer boys.”  
  
 “Aye, let us be away.” Brandon returned, “But first, we have to stop by and tell the GreatJon we are on our way over. They insisted that if you were to race, we were to come and fetch him. The north would not miss this for all the world. You may not notice this, but they are quite taken by you Lya.”  
  
 At this she blushed. Of course she was aware of the affection the northern lords held for her. She was the image of her Lady mother, and the only daughter of their Liege Lord. But it was her wolf’s blood that had endeared her to the northern lords. Apparently to be born with wolf’s blood was a rare thing, but it was even more rare for a daughter to be born with it. Of what she knew, a daughter of the north has not been born with the wolf’s blood since before conquest. And this made her next to royalty in the eyes of the North.  
  
 From as far back as she could recall, her father's bannermen had regarded her with something akin to reverence. And she always got the feeling that they expected something from her. Though if she were being honest, she had no idea what, but no matter. They were nothing less than polite at all times.  
  
  
 “Very well, we will go tell the GreatJon, but then we go straight for the grounds. I do not want to be late, or be denied a place in line. I intend to win, and if the North wants to be there, they had best hurry.” she said as they walked toward the other side of camp, which happened to be on the way as it turned out.  


* * *

 The field was huge, and there were at least thirty riders who showed up to race.  To her amazement, a huge host of Northmen had already arrived to watch the race, in anticipation that she would show on her famed northern mare. Alongside them stood some Valemen who were close with her brother Ned and Even some Stormlanders, who also turned up to watch. Though, to her astonishment Robert was not amongst them. No doubt he was still sleeping off the ale he’d consumed the night before.  
  
  _Well good riddance, he is not welcomed here at any rate. I want nothing to do with that pig…_  she thought to herself indignantly. If she were being honest, she was looking for someone else. Though, she could not tell anyone else that. She was not even sure if he would show, but there was a little part of her that held out hope.  
  
 After their conversation the night previous, and the dreams she’d had of him after her trip to the God’s Eye with Howland, he was ever present in her thoughts. That and the fact that her mark reacts when she is in his proximity. Even though Howland would not give her any information on who her Link barer is, she had a pretty good idea it was the prince. And just as the thought crossed her mind, she saw him come into her field of vision.  
  
  Walking with only two guards at his side, he made his way past the crowds, and found a place under the shade of a nearby tree. She would not react to him though. Now was not the time. That he was here meant enough to her. She brushed her mark, hoping he could feel whatever it is she was feeling in that moment.  
  
  
 “Lya, did you hear me?” Brandon broke her out of her trance.  
  
 “No, I’m sorry Bran, I did not. I was thinking about the competition.” she lied.  
  
Cocking an eyebrow at her, “Sure you were, get your head in the game, little wolf. It's about to start. Give them hell, and show them the meaning of our words.” he smacked Winter on her rump and walked to join the rest of the men who came to watch her race.  
  
 When the herald called for the race to begin, she did not waste a moment. Kicking her heels she urged Winter forward. It did not take much to convince her, and soon they were flying passed the competition until she was riding side by side with two other riders. One a beautiful Sand Steed of midnight black, another a chestnut brown palfery. Both beautiful beasts, though neither could compete with a Winter storm. She smiled to herself then.  
  
 Leaning in she whispered to her mount. “Let us play a game my dear. We shall stay abreast for now, allow them to think they have the advantage.” she smiled wickedly. “First we shall overtake the chestnut mare beside us. We will save that Dornish steed for the finish.” she finished, and she was sure Winter had understood her.  
  
 Not soon after, it was as she had said, Winter easily passed by the reachlord and found it not difficult at all to keep pace with the Dornish Lord. She knew the lead that the two riders held over the other competitors was significant, so she chose to not press a lead now. She could afford to allow him to become cocky. Had he been a Northmen, he would have known that this race was futile, but the boy riding beside her seemed as sure of himself as his horse did. Unfortunately for him, it was obvious to Lyanna that they were not One the way she was with Winter. She knew without hesitation that Winter was an extension of her, not an accessory to her.  
  
  It was on the second lap, on the way back to the finish line when it became clear to the rider beside her that this would not be an easy win for him, just like most men, she was sure he had underestimated her based on her sex. But it was too late for him. His mount began to slow some. Not much, and Lyanna knew it was because Dornish Sand Steeds were bred specifically for their stamina. She knew that he could keep riding, but her rider had pushed her from the gate, and had yet to let up on her. While Winter had only hit full speed once in the beginning of the race, and was just waiting on her command to set off for the finish line. She was right… such an intelligent creature… Leaning forward, she ran her left hand across her left flank, and just like that, Winter was off… no words necessary, but praise was offered anyway.  
  
The Dornishmen had no time to react by the time Winter blew past him, in her rush to the finish. And by the time he rode past, she was already wrapped in her brother Brandon’s embrace.

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

  
  
 He was not sure how long he had been sleeping when Arthur showed up outside his tent. But the camp was clearly still quiet, so he assumed it was just past dawn. He dressed in silence and made his way from his tent falling in beside Arthur, they made their way to the great hall to break their fast before heading to the tourney grounds for the Opening of the Tournament. He knew this would be a long day.

 

True to his word, he made his way from the Great Hall, toward the tourney grounds. If he was correct, the races would be starting soon, and even if he’d wanted to skip the event, he felt like he was being drawn there. As if an invisible tether had been created between she and him. And he found he did not mind. The closer he was to her, the easier it became to breathe, to exist. How he had become so dependent on her proximity in less than a day was beyond even his understanding.  
  
 As they approached, he could see a huge crowd of people gathered around, people from all over the Seven Kingdoms. There was a small crowd of Reachmen, and Stormlanders. He even spotted a few knights from the Riverlands standing off to the side. The biggest crowds were from the North, the Vale, and Dorne. It made sense when he thought about it. Even though Valemen aren’t particularly great horsemen,  Jon Arryn had fostered Eddard Stark, and if Lyanna was competing then he was certain her brothers would be there to support her, which meant the Vale would be there as well.  
  
 He did not wish to cause a scene by taking a place beside the rest of the onlookers. Instead, he and Arthur and Oswell made their way to a quiet shaded area, and waited patiently for the race to begin.  He vaguely heard the sound of the herald signaling for the competitors to start, and then there was a thunder of hooves in the distance, and the space around him was ignited into loud cheers as the Northmen and the Valemen cheered on their own. There were three very clear frontrunners from the beginning. The first, a boy. Light of hair, with a shock of black, and tanned skin…  Gerold Dayne he was sure, and this suspicion was confirmed when Arthur stepped forward to get a closer look. His Dornish steed was black as midnight, as strong as he was swift.  
  
Beside him, a chestnut brown palfrey mare, someone from the Reach, though he was not sure who. Not that it mattered anyway, because beside him there she was.  
  
 White leather breeches, and a grey riding dress, her hair bound in a loose braid. Her mare was a dappled gray. Her mane was as silver as his own, her coat was a mixture between the storm grey of her eyes and freshly fallen snow. She was the exact personification of her rider, and indeed it seemed as if the two were one. She was bent over the back of her mount, with her head pressed against her neck, and for a moment it seemed as if she were whispering to the mare as they raced. The two seemed to understand one another well, because they both seemed at ease in their mission. It was not long before Lyanna passed the Reach Lord, and was running parallel to the young lord of High Hermitage. His steed was splendid, his coat shone like the sun, but it was clear he was at a disadvantage beside Lyanna and her mare. They were disjointed in a way Lyanna was not. And while it was clear that Little Gerold was intent on winning, and giving it everything he could. Lyanna was biding her time. She rode side by side with him for a time, even allowing him to gain on her. He suspected she planned to use her mare to her advantage in the last moment, saving her strength until it was absolutely necessary.  
  
  _Such a sight to behold. . ._

  
 His assumption was confirmed on the last leg of the race, once they had turned and started back in the direction they had come from. Lyanna and Gerold were about three quarters of the way through when Lyanna reached her arm forth and stroked the left flank of her mare and whispered to her.

 

 Gerold, up until then had been leading by a few feet, when a grey blur sped past him, and before he could react she was speeding toward the finish. The crowd cheered wildly, as she crossed the line, and Rhaegar saw the entire northern host break from where they had been stationed and rush toward her. The first to reach her was her eldest brother Brandon. Scooping her from the saddle of her horse, he spun her around in circles and they both threw their head back and laughed in wild abandon.

  She was spectacular, and there was no denying it. He wanted to go to her, but he would not. This had been enough. He was sure of it the moment her eyes met his. He smiled at her then. And she smiled back. No words were necessary. He turned on his heel and made his way for the next competition, knowing the day would be long and his sire would be expecting him.

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

  
  “By the Gods Lya, that was amazing! Winter is Coming indeed!” Brandon was practically glowing at her. “Ethan, take Winter to the stables, and see that she gets a few sugar cubes and an apple, would you?” His squire quickly rushed forth taking Winter’s reins in hand.  
  
 “You rode well today Lady Lyanna, congratulations on your win.” Ethan offered before taking Winter with him.  
  
 She was still smiling when Brandon spun her so she could see the Prince walking toward the tourney grounds and their eyes met. She had almost forgotten that he had came, and she warmed thinking how he was able to make time. He smiled at her then, and she smiled back at him. Knowing that he would not come over while she was in the company of her brothers and her people. But she found that him showing up was enough. After all, Robert Baratheon was still missing in action, yet the crown prince had shown up to see her race.  
  
 Turning her attention back to her brother, she gestured to be put down, and then they made their way over to the rest of the crowd who had gathered to congratulate her.  
  
 “You know, I almost thought I would win.” she heard a thickly accented voice behind her. It had to be the boy she had been racing, because he was the only one who even thought to stand a chance. She turned to face him, with Bran stopping beside her. When she turned to face him, she noticed that he resembled the Prince a bit. Long silver hair, save the streak of black in the front, and dark purple eyes. A few years younger than herself if she’d had to guess.  
  
 Reminding herself that she was not in the north, she chose her next words carefully. “I apologize for the deception My Lord, but my Winter is a sore loser, by the time the finish line was upon her, there was little I could have done to sway her from her mission.” She couldn't keep the grin from her face when she said it though. And even though the boy had a look on his face that spoke of displeasure, he was friendly enough about it.  
  
 “That is fair, I wanted to compliment you on your mount, she is splendid. Did someone train her for you?” he asked earnestly.  
  
 It was Brandon who spoke up. “My sister Lyanna has had Winter since she was a foal. She trained and broke her, herself.” She could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke.  
  
 “This is my brother Brandon, Heir of Winterfell, and you are?” she could not simply keep referring to the boy as the Dornishman.  
  
 “Gerold Dayne, Lord of High Hermitage. Though my family and those close to me call me Darkstar.” he supplied.  
  
 “Well met, Lord Dayne.” Brandon greeted him.  
  
 “Well met, Lord Stark.” he responded.  
  
 “Perhaps we shall see each other around again, but we really should be going,” Lyanna hated to brush him off so casually, but she needed to hurry if she meant to make it to the first match of the joust. “Brandon, the joust is beginning soon, should we not head there now?”  
  
 “Indeed, though would you prefer not to change before we go?” he asked.  
  
 She had thought about it that morning, and even though she would be perfectly happy attending as she was, she knew Brandon had a point, “Only if my brother would be so kind as to be my personal escort.” At this Bran snorted.  
  
 “I’m sure we could convince the whole northern host to carry you back to your tent on their shoulders if you insist. Given your win, we could possibly even convince them to do it the entire tournament.” he teased. Lyanna could not help but to roll her eyes.  
  
“An escort shall suffice, I should think.” And so they set off for her tent after spending a few moments among the Northmen so that they could offer their congratulations.


	14. Securing the Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Lyanna wins the Horse Races, she heads over to the tourney ground to check out the first day of the Joust. While there she will get an invite from Ashara, and Princess Elia. And Ned will have to spill the beans to Lya about his mark and what happened the previous evening with the Lady Ashara.

**The Silver Prince**

  
  The first day was always the slowest, so in between his father's rants he made room to comment on a few well struck hits, and the rest of the time he found his mind wandering back to last evening.

  It was still to early for Elia to have spoken with Lyanna, but the Lady Ashara was beside her, and had assured him that she would be able to suggest having Lyanna join her and the Princess to Lord Eddard. He was not quite sure what to make of the familiar way she said his name, but he was prepared not to press the matter. Especially if it meant that he would be able to spend more time getting to know about the Lady Lyanna, and more time to figure out a way to approach the mark with her.

  He had been struck dumb with curiosity after the conversation he had with her the previous evening, the only other person aside from his Uncle Aemon who had ever indulged him with such conversations is his mother. Any preconceived ideas he had of her in regards to her character prior to meeting her had all been thrown out. She thus far is the single most complex person he had ever had the pleasure of encountering. He couldn't help but smile thinking about how unsure he had been, worrying about her reaction to his approach, of his concern for her wellbeing, how he wanted to tell her that he admired her fearlessness, how he would have rather ran himself through with his own sword than to run her off by treating her like a delicate flower. The way every southern lady he had ever had thrust into his company would prefer to be treated.  
  
 It occurred to him suddenly that for a while, when it was just the two of them he had forgotten his sorrows, and the weight of the prophecy, and the pressure of destiny, hanging over his shoulders like an axe.  And for just a little while, it was just the two of them, and the moon, and her words washing over him. And rather than feeling like he was still alone in the darkness, he belonged. . .  
  
 Unbidden his inner dragon roared at the revelation. He could not explain it, but it had always been there; his dragon. Sometimes it was a feeling akin to rage. But this dragon is different. This dragon has a name, but she won't share it. And no matter how many times he has called for her in the darkness, she has not came for him. And deep down, he knows she is kin to him. Her thoughts are her own, and they present themself in sleeping and waking hours. But he still knew little and less of her and what this meant. Of what he did know, their personalities were linked. And she wanted a place to belong as much as he did…

  Just then he was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of the crowd erupting in cheers as the Porcupine Knight unhorsed his opponent with a well placed hit to his left underarm. There would only be three more matches before the games concluded for the day, but he found his father preparing to stand, so he stood as well, never presuming to sit in comfort while the King stands before his subjects. The stands quieted while they awaited the King’s announcement.  
  
 “I grow weary of these games, stay! Enjoy these festivities.” he waved a hand dismissively, and walked toward the steps, Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan following in his wake. After the King was gone, the herald called the next match, and everyone resumed their activities.  The rest of the contestants were unremarkable to him, because he found himself once again gazing across the stands toward a set of deep grey eyes, rimmed by long thick lashes. And apparently he was not alone in his pining, because the moment their eyes met, she flushed that same exquisite shade of pink that she had the night previous.  
  
  He knew that the situation was not getting any easier, Lyanna knew naught of his annulment with Elia, or the fact that the babe she carries does not belong to him. For as much joy and satisfaction he felt at seeing her smile, he felt an equal amount of fear. The last thing he wanted her to think, was that he is no better than Robert when it comes to keeping to his vows.   
And while everything looks and feels fine, he dreaded the thought of her seeing him in a less than favorable light.   
  
 Nay, he could not allow that to happen. He would seek out an opportunity to see her again tonight. But first he would need to keep Robert distracted so he can slip away with her. 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

  
 It had not taken her long to dress for the Joust, suddenly glad she had chosen a dress earlier that morning. Not that she’d cared about changing, her riding dress was perfectly acceptable attire in her opinion. And that is exactly what she had told Brandon while they made their way back to camp.  
  
 Unfortunately,  _brother_ Brandon got lost along the way, and _father_ Brandon responded in his stead. “Perhaps if you were going to see about business with Father at home, but not while the King is in Attendance Lya.” he chided her. Of course she understood why she had to change, it just seemed like a lot of fuss, just to sit down and sweat.  
  
She had decided then, that she would never understand Southerners. They are a vain lot, and from what she’d seen, they did not possess one bit of practicality. If last evening’s feast was any indication of these southern lords usefulness, she was pretty sure she had seen enough.  
  
 Before coming to the tourney, she had always wondered what life outside the North would be like, but now that she’s living it, she had to admit that she was not much impressed. From what she has seen, they are either lying, posturing, or drowning in their cups. Such frivolous lifestyles. Even the tourney seemed over the top, not that she would complain, she would be collecting her prize money from the race, courtesy of those frivolities. But still, it's shameful that people waste so much to celebrate these games while the men at the Wall go ignored and unaided every winter.  
  
 Approaching her seat, she noticed Howland and Ben were already there, Ned just behind them in the next row. “Have I missed anything brothers?"  
  
 “Not at all, the contest was just opened and they are getting ready to call the first up in a moment.” Ben answered back enthusiastically.  
  
  _Perfect…_  
  
She turned to Ned, unable to deny the urge to poke at him about his lady love from the previous night. “So, my dearest Ned, how was your evening?" She tried to keep a straight face, but it was futile. Aside from the fact that Ned showed interest in a lady, he showed _singular_ interest in a lady, and even danced with her. Which meant, he has to know if she was his _bonded_ pair or not.  
  
He didn't even turn to her. _Oh gods. . . Ned!_  
  
_“_ You didn't!” she exclaimed as quietly as possible.  
  
“Keep your voice down Lya, of course I didn't. But you need to relax. We can not have this conversation here. And you know why.” he tried to sound cross, but his face was on fire.  
  
 “Okay, fine! But don't think you are going to get away without an explanation Ned.”  
  
He nodded once, and then he passed her a piece of parchment. “What is this?”  
  
“It’s for you, Ashara asked me if I would deliver it safely into your hands.” She grinned at her lovestruck brother. She wanted to tease him for this, but she knew he would not appreciate it, so she accepted the message and reached for his hand, squeezing slightly before letting go. No words necessary, as always.  
  
“Has anyone decent entered the field yet?” she asked Ben and Howland. They knew who she was referring to, so there was no need to elaborate any further.  
  
 It was Howland to reply this time. “Not yet, Lya.”  
  
Very well, she thought to herself. Sitting back she unfolded the square of parchment and found it was an invitation to sit with Ashara and the Princess Elia.  
  
_Odd. . ._ She had been thinking about the Princess the night before. After she had spent time with the Prince. _Could this be the reason for her invitation?_ She got butterflies in her stomach thinking about someone seeing her walking alone with the Prince. And not for the first time did she want to curse herself for being so foolish.  
  
 “What is it?” Ned asked.  
  
It made no sense to keep it a secret, there was nothing in the message that indicated she had done something wrong, so she handed the message back to Ned so he could read it himself. His reaction was one of indifference.  
  
 “Will you accept?”  
  
 “Can I decline?” she retorted.  
  
 “Not really,” he answered.  
  
 “Well then, I suppose I shall accept.” She would love nothing more than to get away and spend her time in a place that Robert Baratheon could not find her, but she was not sure whether this specific invitation was about making lasting friendships, or making and receiving threats.

* * *

**The Wild Wolf  
**

**  
**  
  Brandon had just saw Lyanna back to the tourney grounds when he had been approached by a rider with a message. It was sealed with his fathers stamp, but something felt off about it.

 Stopping the boy before he could run off too quickly, he asked. "How is it that you managed to come by correspondence from the Warden of the North addressed to his heir?"

 He didn't want to scare the boy off, but it was no secret that the King believed that treason was being plotted here, and this letter could be a trick if he weren't careful.

 The boy looked around as if unsure of how to reply, but he quickly brushed aside any feelings of trepidation and looked him straight in the eye as he answered.

 "My Lord bid me ride for Winterfell some two moons past. I returned just before I approached you," he paused, considering his next words. "Before you ask, I've no idea what the message I was to deliver said, but I suspect any questions you may have will be explained to you." he gestured toward the message that he'd just delivered.

  He was right, of course. "I thank you for seeking me out straight away then." Nodding, the boy turned his back to him, and walked off in the direction of the other camps. Brandon had forgotten him the moment his eyes found the script written in his fathers hand.

 Back inside his tent, he went to his cot and broke the seal. The message had indeed been from his father, but the answers within did little to help him understand.

 

 

 

 

 

>   
>    
>  Brandon,  
>  _Things have changed. There is much to explain, but I sent you to Harrenhal to act in my stead as the heir to Winterfell. I'm sure you are aware of the rumors behind the Tourney. I need you to make time to speak to the Crown Prince on behalf of House Stark. The Prince will know why you have come to speak with him. Your job is to listen, and to be my representative, and to ensure that the Prince knows he has the full support of our house. I must also ask that you keep a close eye on your sister Lyanna, she is more important than you could possibly understand. For this reason, I ask that you monitor any time she spends in the company of Lord Baratheon, furthermore, it is possible that they won’t be making a match with one another. So there is no reason to encourage her to try. However, do not tell her this._
> 
> _I'm trusting you to take care of these matters for me. I'm also trusting you to keep a cool head while you are there. Remember son, you are a part of a pack, not a lone wolf. Protect the pack._  
>  _And please tell the Prince that I've settled the matter with the Ravens._  
>    
>  _The pack survives._

  
  
  _What the hell was that?_ To say he was confused is a gross understatement. _At which point had the Prince become a part of his fathers plans?_ He wasn't certain, but there was something he was sure of. He needed to arrange a way for him and the Prince to speak, and based on Neds reaction to Lady Ashara last night, he was pretty sure he knew how to get that audience. Quickly, he stood from his cot, and made for the tourney grounds. He needed to go see his siblings.

* * *

**The She-wolf**

  
  
 She found herself lost in her thoughts more often than she had hoped. If she kept up this behavior, she would miss the next contestant entering the list. But she kept seeing his deep indigo eyes flash across her mind. Those same eyes that haunted her as she slept. Tempting her to drown in their depths. She needed a distraction, and she knew where she would get it. Ned was no help, he was just as bad off as she had been, staring across at the Lady Ashara the entire time.  She decided to turn her attention to her brother and Howland.   
  
  "What are you two discussing?" she asked conspiratorially.   
  
  They both looked to her then like she should already know the answer, and she supposed she should but she did not. So she just gave them a raised brow, suggesting that they should just tell her. "The last match, weren't you paying attention?" Benjen looked incredulous.  
  
  She obviously had not been, but she did not want them to know why, so she lied and made up what she considered to be an acceptable excuse. "I admit, I was not. My mind wandered. I did not sleep well last night. And with the races before the joust opened, Im hardly able to focus at all," she let her chest droop infinitesimally in hopes that he would buy her lie. She was terrible at it. But with the way things had been going, and the tingling in her wrist, looking flustered was something she thought she would be able to pull off with little effort.

  'Well, the last match was nothing special, so don't worry. The first day is always the slowest day of matches. This is the day they weed out the fair riders from the great ones. Tomorrow will be much better. But pay attention to this next tilt sister, it's the Porcupine Knight." And she could see the excitement written all over his face.   
  
  "Does he ride well?" She was curious to know his odds. Ben shrugged, but it was Howland that responded.  
  
  "Well enough," he pointed toward the end of the yard where a rider approached. "I suspect you will have your answer soon enough."  
  
  Just then, Brandon approached and sat down beside Ned and passed him something, they spoke in hushed tones but she could not make out what was said. Her attention was called back to the field where the match had just began. The Porcupine knight did indeed ride well enough, but she was certain she was better, his aim however was true, and he quickly unhorsed his opponent, securing his place in the tilt on the morrow. But the win seemed too easy, and she was not the only one in the crowd to think it if their reactions were any indication. There had been very little cheering, though that could have had something to do with the fact that the King was departing at that very moment.   
  
 At any rate, one of the three Knights she intended to challenge were sure to be in the lists on the morrow, and if the other two should win their first matches on the morrow everything would go according to plan. A wicked smile crossed her lips, and she leaned in to squeeze Benjen's hand. "Tonight, little brother." she whispered conspiratorially. He only nodded back. Or at least she thought he had, but her attention was called to the royal box once more, where she met the eyes of the Silver Prince, who had for all intents and purposes been shamelessly looking at her, for Gods only knew how long. She blushed just then, thinking that somehow he was aware of her plotting. She wasn't sure why, but some how she could believe it. Just then, her mark began to tingle as if in confirmation, and she was struck with a moment of absolute genius!   
  
 If her mark was tingling, chances were it was tingling on the other end of the bond as well. She reached for her wrist, and began to rub at it. As she did so, she chanced a glance up in his direction, hoping that she was right, and it was him. And she would have had her confirmation if Ned and Brandon hadn't interrupted her train of thought! 

* * *

**The Quiet Wolf**

 

  He had been lost in his own thoughts of Ashara when Brandon approached.  
  
  "Ned, Look at this, and tell me what you make of it." Brandon had a worried look about his face. He took the parchment from his brother turning it over to see what the fuss was all about.   
  
  "It's in fathers hand."  _Odd. . . What could Father possibly have to say that would make Brandon react like this?_  
  
  "Aye, just read it Ned and tell me that you have an idea of whats going on."  
   
  What could he possibly know that Bran did not?  
  
  Well, he certainly got his answer when he read over his fathers words. Without hesitation, his gaze drifted over to the royal box, where he knew the prince was sitting, and when his eyes finally found him, he was shocked to find the Prince was also looking in their direction. . .straight at Lyanna. He swallowed, he did indeed know what this letter was about. He turned to look at his brother.   
  
  "Aye, I'm aware of what this is all about. Here, there is something you should see as well," he decided to just put the pieces on the board that were available to him. The one in question was the same message that he had delivered to Lyanna earlier written in Ashara's hand. "There is more though, I— I think we should probably go to the tents or even the Godswood to continue this conversation."  
  
  Brandon had just finished looking over the note Ashara had sent to Lyanna when Ned finished speaking. When he looked at Ned, you could see the barely concealed anger flash across his visage. "Do you think he is forcing father's hand? This letter is most certainly his doing, I know it." Ned just shook his head.  
  
_The wolf's blood runs too wild in you Brandon. Never do you stop to consider all the other possibilities._  
  
"Calm, Brandon. Let us go with Lya and Ben to talk and I promise that this will all make sense soon. But I beg you, do not let your temper make you blind. The prince has committed no wrongs here. In fact I daresay, we may need him to join us for this conversation. Maybe not."   
  
 The joust was almost over now, so it would not matter if they made away early. Especially now that the King had excused himself. Leaning forward he nudged his sister. "Lya, Brandon and I need to speak with you and Benjen in private, would you mind following us back to the tents? It's time for that conversation you wanted to have earlier." He hoped that would keep her from asking too many questions while they were still out in public.  
  
  "Very well, I was ready to leave anyway. Only, can we stop by the royal box? I should like to give the Princess and Lady Ashara my reply." At the last part, Brandon looked to him as well and raised his eyebrow at him.   
  
 "Aye, that will be fine. Brandon needs to meet with the Prince as well." Thankfully, Lyanna did not press the matter with any further questions and they departed straight away. 

* * *

 They made their way back to their tents in good time. They did not remain long at the royal box, and though Brandon had a message for the prince, Ned had convinced him to hold off until he could secure a private audience together. Brandon wasn't at all convinced in Ned's ability to secure said audience, but he relented all the same. By the time they were all crammed into Bran's tent, Ned decided it was best that he start the conversation. Even though their father's letter said not to announce to Lyanna that Brandon was to distract Robert away from spending time with her, Ned knew how useless the entire charade was. Based on what he'd seen between Lyanna and the Prince, he was her _link,_ only neither of them have pieced it all together yet.   
  
  "Father seems to have sent Brandon a message via rider. He came while we were watching the tilt." He passed the letter to Lyanna. Holding a hand to silence Brandon's protest. "It matters not, and you will understand why in a few moments." He began to undo the ties on the arm of his undershirt. "About ten months ago, I came home on a visit. I am sure you know which one I am referring to. I brought with me an offer of betrothal from Robert Baratheon.  Father called for Lyanna immediately, before I had a chance to speak with her about it alone. And I needn't remind you how happy she was with the news." He paused to let his words sink in before he continued on, only when he went to speak, it was Lyanna who forged on with the story. He looked to her then, and her eyes confirmed what he knew to be true. She wanted to unburden herself of their secret as much as he did.   
   
  
  "I had been hounding the maester for days about the white raven announcing winter, as I do every time the season has changed. So, when it finally arrived, I went to the Godswood to make Winter's Offering as I've done every season since our Lady Mother departed. It had been the oddest thing, one moment I was dressing the branches with the rabbit I offered, and the next moment, my wrist was on fire. Not like the heat from an open flame. It was the burn of Ice." While she was talking she began pulling up the sleeve of her dress so that they could present their marks together.   
  
 The look on the face of his siblings was priceless, he knew why Brandon and Ben were shocked, but it was Lyanna's face that was unexpected. Until he realized why. His mark had changed the night before. The moment he had taken Ashara's arm and lead her to the floor for their first dance, his mark began to transform. Where before there was only his grey wolf, now there was a pale moon and a violet shooting star, completing the mark.   
  
 "Last night, I was drawn to a particular lady if you remember correctly. She revealed to me as we were making our way to the floor for our first dance, that she also received her mark the day the raven came from the Citadel. It came when you gave Winter's Offering Lya. I asked her if anyone else knew of her mark, but she said that she had told no one. Until she and I locked eyes in the Great Hall last evening, she said she hadn't paid it much thought. But the moment she and I made contact, I knew that my mark had connected me to my link. So when this message was given to me by Brandon," he paused for dramatic effect. "I quickly thought about your invitation and showed it to Bran. It all clicked in that moment for me, so when I looked across the way, I was not surprised to see that the prince wore the same expression on his face that I wore last night while pining for _my_ Ashara."  
  
  "I suspect he is your link Lya."  
  
  "But he's married!" Brandon nearly shouted.  
    
  "Indeed he is, and that is unfortunate for the Princess Elia." Brandon was shocked to hear these words pass through his lips.   
  
  "Yes, it sounds callous to you, but to my knowledge Bran, you do not bare an _Ink Mark_. Granted I am no expert, on the matter, but I have been living with this for nearly a year now, as has Lyanna, and believe me when I tell you, Lyanna and I put in a huge effort to research the marks while I was home on my visit. I even stayed longer than I had originally intended to stay. Yet it was I, who completed the bond before Lyanna," he shook his head, head still spinning from the magnitude of the situation. "But from everything Lyanna and I found, this mark is as binding as any marriage blessed by the High Septon, or performed by our Lord Father at home. This mark, is the Gods will. And there is no denying it." He turned back to Lyanna.   
  
  "Tell it true, you feel it do you not? The bond calls to you, even now." She simply nodded.   
  
  "I have something else I have to tell all of you," he almost hadn't heard Lyanna speak. "I think Howland needs to be with us when we speak with the Prince."   
  
  What ever he had expected her to say, this was not it. "Why would Howland need to be with us to discuss this matter?"   
  
  "Because he knows things, He spent a season on the Isle of Faces with the Greenmen before he came to attend the tourney. And,. . . and last night, on the way back to our tents, he shared with me some advice about destiny. He knows about our marks Ned, and he knows about Rhaegar's too. But he wont share everything he knows with me, he said that I was not the only one with questions, and that I would need to wait until everyone was there before he answered my questions. I think he meant you and Ashara and Rhae— The Prince."  she finished quickly.  
  
  "Very well, we will ask him to join us when we speak with the prince and Ashara. I too am interested in what he has to say. Now, about Robert. . .  this could be a problem, he is singularly focused on our dear sister."  
  
  "I'll kill him if he touches her." Brandon retorted as if the offer was one of generosity.

 _No_ _thank_ _you_ , _this_ _will_ _not_ _win_ _us_ _friends_.   
  
  "Forgive me Brandon, but father specifically asked you to represent him in all matters at the Tourney, so It could prove better, if you fought your battles on the field, and not within our camp, or the tourney grounds. It could prove more beneficial to keep him drunk and distracted with pretty faces and pronounced curves, if you get my drift. Maybe Ethan and Elbert can help on that front." Surprisingly Lyanna stayed quiet while Ned and Brandon worked through the problem that was Robert. In the end, they decided that Benjen would remain close to her when Ned and Brandon could not be there to run interference if Robert somehow managed to slip passed them.   
  
  It was only a few hours before the feast when they finally finished their conversation and parted ways to prepare for the evening. He wanted to go out in search of Ashara the moment they departed, but he would wait.   
  
_Just a bit longer. . ._ His mark began to tingle.  
  
  He was just about to lay down when he heard his tent flap lift. Not knowing who it was, he turned to see Ashara standing just inside the entrance.  _She came for me. . ._ His heart started to pound wildly in his chest. "Ashara..., you're here." he was suddenly nervous.   
  
  She smiled, "Do I still make you nervous, even after last night?"   
  
  He swallowed, "I, um. . . No. It's just that I had been thinking how good it would be to go to you, before you showed up. As if you were reading my thoughts. That's all." He made his way toward her. She was still just inches from the entrance.   
  
  "And were you planning to come seek me out, my lord?" she asked him, but he knew that she was teasing him. Her eyes spoke of mischief, and he had never wanted to be more like Bran in that moment. . . Instead he blushed. She had caught him, he wasn't sure how he knew it, but she would know if he lied about this. She began to approach him, meeting him half way.  
  
  "I confess, I was not. I intended to wait to see you until tonight. I did not want to cause a scene, seeking you out. But make no mistake, it gladdens my heart to have you here with me now." she wrapped her arms around his torso, and he pulled her in and embraced her as a lover would taking in her scent along with her affection. It had felt like an entire age had passed since they said their goodbyes last night. Sitting so close, yet so far throughout the joust was like slow torture to his soul. And now that she was here, he didn't want to waste a moment without her in his arms.   
  
  Suddenly, he remembered the letter from his father and he decided to ask Ash for her assistance. He would tell her everything, the Gods had marked her for him, so he knew that she would not betray his trust.   
  
  "Ashara, I need to tell you something, and I need a favor from you. . ." And he began to tell her everything.

 


	15. The Dragon and the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the first day of games, Rhaegar decides that he needs to see Lyanna before the feast, to unburden himself, and finally put the speculation to bed. Meanwhile Lyanna and her partners in crime are finalizing their plans for the evening, and Howland decides it's time to answer some questions.

  
**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

  
  After Lyanna and her brothers departed the tourney grounds Ashara and Elia informed him that she had accepted the invitation to sit with them in the coming days. “That is very good.” He was flustered. He wanted to leave, he wanted to follow her back to her tent and tell her everything. He wanted to tell her about Elia and Arthur, but he could not. He could not depart before the final tilt was over, which thank the Gods was wrapping up at this very moment.  
  
  Remembering his courtesy, he stood and applauded the final two competitors and promptly made his way for the exit once the games had been officially closed for the day.  
  
 “Arthur, can you send for Richard Lonmouth and Marq Grafton, I’d like to ask a favor of them,” . . . he’d thought about this for a while. “have them meet us back at camp.” Last evening, he had noticed his cousin Robert drinking with Ser Richard, and the situation could not be more perfect. The lad had been Rhaegar’s own squire, he’d knighted him as well. He was true and loyal to Rhaegar, but also one of Robert’s own bannermen. Marq Grafton on the other hand haled from Gulltown in the Vale. Both would serve as a perfect distraction  for the Stormlord at the feast tonight, and perhaps even before.  
  
 With any luck, he might even be able to sneak off with Lyanna for another walk under the stars… After thinking on it a bit more, Rhaegar decided to have a message delivered to her. This way things would not be left up to chance. 

* * *

  

 

 

 

>   _Lyanna,_
> 
> _  
> __I find it difficult to stay away, yet, I do not wish to draw attention and this is the only means I could conceive of to speak with you. I must confess I have been unable to stop thinking of our conversation last evening, and all the things I left unsaid between the two of us. If it's not too bold, I was wondering if you would be willing to meet me in the Godswood? There is much I wish to speak with you of, and until I do, I'll be tortured by my silence.  
>  __  
> __If you decide to come, I will be by the heart tree in one hours time. I do hope you will accept, but if you do not, I will understand. Fear not, I wish only to talk._  
>    
>                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    _Rhaegar._

* * *

  
  
Quickly, he rolled up the parchment and applied his seal. He was just about to go in search of Arthur when his tent flap opened and Arthur entered to announce both Marq Grafton and Richard Lonmouth.  
  
  Perfect timing. . .  
  
 “Please see them in Arthur, and would you please find a way to deliver this to the Lady Lyanna? Perhaps Ashara can help?”  
  
 “Of course, Your Grace.” he reached for the scroll, but looked hesitant. “Are you sure you want to reach out to her so early though?  
  
  “Yes.” he stated matter of factly, but then considered his friends position and added, “Until this is figured out, my mind will be elsewhere and we can afford no distractions.” It was true. He had zoned out one too many times in his father's presence this afternoon, and it was only a matter of time before that turned problematic. He could not be blinded right now, especially with Lyanna being here.  
  
  Arthur seemed to accept this answer because he relaxed a bit and then replied. “As you command, Your Grace, so it shall be done.” Nodding, he turned and made for the tent flap.  
  
  “Arthur, when I am done here, I will be going to the Godswood straight away. I assume you will be joining me? Perhaps we can spar while we are there?” He had no idea if she would accept his invitation, so he may as well make the best of his trip. Plus, If he and Arthur decided to go there to train, no one would question it.  
  
 “You know me so well.” Arthur smiled. “I shan't be gone long.” And with that, he opened the flap and allowed the two men whom he had summoned, into his space, closing the three of them in together as he went about his task.

* * *

**The Falling Star**

* * *

 

  
  
  
  She was just leaving Elia when Arthur found her. She was considering going back to her chambers to bathe and ready herself for the evening, but when she saw the look on her brothers face she knew he had need of her.  “What is it dear brother, is everything alright with the prince? Or have you came for Elia,” she whispered  conspiratorially so that no one would overhear.  
  
  He smiled at her, as he always did when Elia was around or mentioned in his presence. Ever since they were children, Arthur had loved her. “As much as it pains me to admit, I have come in search of you, my sweet, sweet sister.” She groaned, she knew that tone. Sensing her discomfort, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fear not, I come to ask a small favor, tis all.” And he passed her a scroll.  
  
 “If it isn't too much trouble, the Prince would appreciate your help in getting this to the Lady Lyanna as soon as possible. I would gladly deliver it myself if you would but escort me.” There was no way she would be able to get out of this, so she took the scroll and brushed passed him.  
  
 “You stay, and check on the Princess. I will go. You should have some time before Prince Lewyn returns.” she wanted to be indignant, but the truth was she was humming on the inside. She would have the chance to see _her_ Ned before the feast, something she had not thought would happen.  
  
 “I am eternally grateful. For your assistance, and for this,” he gestured his head toward Elia’s chambers. She knew what he meant. It had been hard for them to be together once they left Dragonstone. And with her a few moons into her pregnancy, he had been beside himself at the mere idea of not being able to comfort her.  
  
She smiled, “Go, and be quick about it.” and she turned on her heel and made her way toward the Stark encampment.  
  
  She found Ned pacing inside his tent, he hadn’t seen her enter. She was glad, for some reason the sight of him, in his natural surroundings was endearing to her. He seemed just as flustered alone as he had at the opening feast. Although she hadn’t made a sound, he must have sensed her, because one moment his back was to her, facing his cot, and in the next he was looking straight at her.  
  
 “Ashara. . . you're here.” her name came off his tongue in a breathless whisper. It made her feel warm. He was all nerves at the sight of her.  
  
 “Do I still make you nervous, even after last night?” She needed to know why. Granted, this was all very new to her. She never cared much for any _one_ particular boy or another. They were merely there to distract her when she was bored. Granted, she was still a maid. . . that did not mean she could not enjoy herself. And she found that most boys were all too happy to serve her at her pleasure. Ned had been different. Gone was the confident woman she thought herself to be, and in her place a shy maiden had taken root. Her heart fluttered within her breast, and her palms grew sweaty thinking of him. The only difference between the two of them was, she had been trained to hide it better. Life at court makes the best mummers out of us all.  
  
  "I, um. . . No. It's just that I had been thinking how good it would be to go to you, before you showed up. As if you were reading my thoughts. That's all." He was so cute, red faced, reaching for her to come closer.  
  
 “And were you planning to come seek me out?” She knew now why he looked so flustered.  
  
  _He was fighting a battle within himself in my honor. . ._  
  
  She needed to focus on the purpose of her visit, before she gets swept up in her own thoughts and feelings.  
  
  "I confess, I was not. I intended to wait to see you until tonight. I did not want to cause a scene, seeking you out. But make no mistake, it gladdens my heart to have you here with me now." He answered earnestly. It was then that she found herself enclosed in the safety of his arms as her own found their way around his torso. And suddenly all her nerves were instantly at ease. She could feel him relax at the very moment her heart returned to its normal pace.  
  
 “Ashara, I need to tell you something, and I need a favor from you.” he started. But she had remembered her purpose, and motioned for him to stop.  
  
 “Wait, before all of that, I also have something to tell you.” she paused, _How best to continue?_ “I need to see your sister, I have another message for her.” She could not lie to him. This link made it impossible so she just came out with it.  
  
  “The prince asked Arthur to have me deliver a message to your sister. Before you ask, I will not give it to you. I may not be able to lie to you about what it contains, or my reasons for bringing it, but I will not betray the trust of my brother who asked this favor of me, nor the trust of my Prince who entrusted him to seek out my help.” Surprisingly Ned just nodded his head in understanding.  
  
  “It was actually the Prince and Lyanna I wanted to speak with you about. Though I must admit, I am curious about the content of that letter. He gestured with a raise of his eyebrow and a nod of his head toward her hand. “Very well, let us go to Lyanna and see what this is all about.” He took her hand and escorted her through the camp toward his sisters pavilion.

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

  
  
  She was sitting in her tent with Benjen and Howland, discussing last minute plans for later in the evening. They had decided that after the feast, they would return back to camp and go to bed. Or at least that is what Bran and Ned would think. And once everything started to quiet, they would sneak out of camp and go in search of the armor they would need. Howland would find a suitable mount for her, and they would all meet back at Benjen’s tent when they had all they would need. Before they could make any further decisions however, they were interrupted by two voices coming toward her tent. One was male, and clearly her brother Ned, the other was female.  
  
 Gesturing to her co-conspirators to be quiet, she made her way for her tent flap and lifted it. On the other side she was surprised to see her brother in the company of the Lady Ashara.  
“Lya, did we interrupt anything?” Ned enquired. But before she could respond Howland stepped up to her side and welcomed them inside.  She turned and looked at him with a quizzical expression. But rather than answer her silent question, he made an announcement. “I am going to get Brandon, and we will be right back, you should ask the Lady Ashara why she has come, and when I return, we shall all go together.” He left without another word, leaving everyone confused.  
  
 “I take it you have something for me?” She asked her brothers lady.  
  
 “Indeed I do. But, who was that?” Lyanna could not help but chuckle to herself. No doubt Howland had confused her.  
  
 “He is a friend of House Stark, one of our fathers bannermen. Lord Howland Reed.”  
  
  “Reed? As in the Crannogman? I thought that the Crannogmen didn't venture past the Neck!” She looked as if she’d seen a dragon. _Maybe a lizard lion?_ And despite how serious she was, and possibly because she was so serious, Ben, Lya and Ned all found them self bursting into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.  
  
 In the end, it was Ned to respond, “It is indeed a rare occurrence, but not unheard of. Especially when coupled with a specific purpose.” he motioned toward Lyanna. “Perhaps, before we spend our time discussing Lord Howland, we should complete your mission, hmm? I suspect the answers you are seeking will come, once he returns with Brandon.”  
  
 That seemed to snap her back into attention, because she reached into a pocket, and retrieved a scroll and passed it over to Lyanna. “It's from the prince.” was the only explanation she gave.  
  
 This was the second message he’d sent her today, well the first. But she was pretty sure he had a hand in the first. If her father's message was any indication, the prince was much further along in his research than she had been.  
  
 “He wants to know if I’ll join him, in the Godswood.” She said it out loud though she didn't have to, but she lifted her eyes to gauge the reactions of the faces in front of her. To her astonishment, everyone seemed as if they had expected this to be the case.  
  
 “When?” Ned asked.  
  
 “Well, how long ago did you receive this?” she asked Ashara.  
  
“About thirty minutes ago, maybe longer but not more than an hour.” Ashara answered.  
  
 “Well, I daresay he’ll be there by the time we get there if we leave now. So are we going?”  
She knew the answer, she just wanted to hear it confirmed.  
  
 It was Ashara who responded this time. “Perhaps it might be best if we allow the Prince and you some time to speak. I admit, I know not what this is all about, but I do not believe he intended for myself or your brothers to accompany you.” she paused “If it is your safety, I can assure you that my brother Ser Arthur will be there to escort the Prince, and he would never let any harm come to you.” But Ned put a hand on her arm to calm her.  
  
 “Ash, we all need to go, you included. This involves you as much as it involves Lyanna, or the Prince. Lyanna, perhaps you can help me out.” He beckoned her over.  
  
 “Of course, I'm happy to help." she gave Ashara a warm smile, "I know that you and I have not had the opportunity to speak much, I was hoping to rectify that in the coming days, but it would seem that destiny waits on no one.  I believe that you and I have something in common.” Ashara was positively puzzled at this. So Lyanna reached out and pulled up the arm of her sleeve. “I believe, up until last evening, you had one similar to mine, and now yours is joined by my brothers.” Something must have clicked for Ashara in that moment, because her eyes flew to Ned.  
  
  _“But if this helps, you are the third person that I can confirm has a mark now. Including myself. And to my knowledge, they all appeared the day the ravens arrived announcing winter.”_ She whispered to Ned, and he nodded back at her.  
  
 “Yes, Lyanna is the third person, and we believe that Prince Rhaegar is her link.” he finished.  
  
 Her face went blank and all the blood drained from it. “It makes so much sense now, Elia, Arthur. . .” she trailed off. . . and Lyanna was left wondering what she was about to say about the Princess, but nothing more was forthcoming. Ashara turned back to Lyanna, “Very well, I agree. But I should tell you both, no one knew about my mark, not even Arthur. So my input will come as a shock to both the Prince and my brother. But I believe you, in fact now I feel foolish for not mentioning my mark to either of them.”  
  
 Just then, Brandon and Howland  entered her tent. “Is everyone ready?” Howland asked, expectantly. Lyanna decided to grab her cloak and then she nodded in confirmation to the crowd around her.  
  
“Aye, let us be away. I am ready to have this over with.” And she was. Though she was all nerves. Howland stepped outside the tent holding the flap for everyone to exit through, Lyanna fell in behind Ned and Ashara, Benjen by her side, and Brandon and Howland following at the rear. She felt like she were being marched to a trial. All they needed now was the executioner…

* * *

  
 They walked in silence away from camp, toward the castle grounds. Once they were within the walls, Lyanna fell in beside Brandon and Howland. “Do you know what is going to happen?” She had a feeling he did, but Howland still hasn’t said anything.  
  
  He looked to her then, eyes the color of green moss and nodded.  “Do you remember what I told you when you asked me what brought me to the tourney?” She nodded.  
  
 “Aye, I do, you said, _“I came here to witness the birth of a song and the completion of a pact.”_ She parroted to him.  
  
 He smiled and inclined his head in her direction. “Indeed I did. And this is the first of many installments.” and that was all he said.  
  
 She puzzled over his words for a while until they came upon the entrance to the Godswood. And suddenly she felt nervous. It was one thing to protest a possible match, but something else altogether to be seeking out the person who she has no choice of. Not that she could sense any issue with the Prince, but she had only had one conversation. That hardly seems like an appropriate amount of time to know a person before giving yourself to them blindly. Gods or not, she was not some pawn to be pushed around. Maybe her brother was fine with his bond. Perhaps she would be too, but damn if she wouldn't put up a fight.  She slowed…  
  
 “Lya, what is it?” It was Bran this time.  
  
 “It’s nothing, I just— This mark means I don't have a choice.” Brandon would understand. He was still struggling with his own betrothal. “It means the end of. . . of me. If he is the other half of my link, I won't have another year to figure out who I am, to ride in the Wolfs Wood, to practice with Ben when Father isn’t around and Old Nan can't find us. It means, no more summer snows, or Weirwoods.” her voice broke at the last moment. Her whole world seemed like it was crashing around her. Gone was the girl who looked fear straight in the face, this girl who she was now, just wanted to run home and hide behind the great grey walls of Winterfell. But she couldn't, if he was her other half, he would come for her. She knew this to be the truth, even if she did not know the Prince, the mark would not allow him to let her simply run from it.  
  
Brandon reached for her hand, pulling her toward him. “Hey little pup, hush. There is nothing to fear, I am here, and so is Ned and Benjen. No one will allow anything to happen to you that you don't want. If he is the other half of your link, at least you will know the truth, but you do not have to seal the bond. Not today, and not if you aren’t ready. Just because the Gods have chosen this for you, doesn't mean that you don't get to choose when. Hmm? Since when has the winter winds bowed for Princes and King's?  
  
This made her smile. “Never.” She started feeling better the moment the word passed through her lips.  
  
 “That's right, never. But who brings the winter winds?” he urged her on.  
  
 “I do.” she felt more confident.  
  
 “Aye. You do, since the day you came howling into the world you have commanded them without mercy. Don't forget that, and the wind does not cower before a dragon.” He smiled for her, one of her favorite smiles. But deep down, she knew that this was just one more thing she would miss once destiny has its way with her.

* * *

**The Falling Star**

* * *

 

She walked beside Ned, on the way to the Godswood within the grounds of Harrenhal, her mind was reeling. If Ned and his siblings were correct, and Lyanna and Rhaegar shared a mark, that meant that she had not been the only one keeping secrets over the past ten months or so. But it made sense, otherwise Rhaegar would have never defied his father by setting Elia aside. Sure, she was aware that the Prince knew of Elia, and Arthur's affections for one another. She even knew that he allowed the two of them to be together before they had set their vows aside. _But why would Elia not confide in her?_ She felt like a stranger in a crowd of familiar faces all of a sudden.  
  
"Ned, perhaps I should go in first, to announce Lyanna and everyone else. That way they know that they are not being ambushed?" It was more of a suggestion than it was a question, but she hoped he would understand how dangerous it could be for all of them to approach uninvited. Especially when it came to her brother and the fulfillment of his duty. Ned seemed to consider her words a moment, before he inclined his head in agreement.   
  
"Aye, I'll tell everyone else. We will wait on you to come retrieve us before we come close." He turned her so she could look him in the eye. "Ashara, you do know that there is nothing to fear, don't you? None of us mean your brother or the prince any harm. In fact, before you came to me, I was going to ask you to help me set up an audience with the prince for this precise reason. So all you've done is help us make that happen. But you have to understand, Lya has spent the better part of a year doing research on her mark. The marks are a link to the Old Gods, you see. And Lya is something special to our people. She has tended the weirwood in the Godswood back home, as well as the winter roses in the Glass Gardens, since the day our Lady Mother departed. She has also been correctly predicting the changing of the seasons since the time she could talk. What I am trying to say to you is, Lya has a connection to the Old Gods that no one else in our family has. And these marks," he motioned to their joined hands, "are no exception. The only thing we are hoping to accomplish today, is the fulfillment of the Gods will." He gave her a shy smile before looking over his shoulder toward his eldest brother and his sister Lyanna.   
  
  "On second thought, Lyanna may be having second thoughts." Ashara had no idea what he meant by that, but surely he was kidding. Ashara had never seen a woman not throw herself at the chance to occupy the princes attention. Her confusion must have shown on her face. Because he smiled down at her and said, "My sister is not like most Ladies. She has never dreamed of beautiful dresses and being the Lady of some Lord's keep. She has only ever wanted to be free to make her own choices. To fight with a sword and bow, to train side by side with Benjen rather than learn a ladies courtesies. She wanted to attend fathers executions beside Brandon and Benjen, and sit in the hall while our Lord Father held court. Even if she is thrilled to be a vessel for the Gods, and I know she is, she will still fight against it. If for no other reason other than she feels her choices are being taken from her."  
  
  Ashara had never considered the mark from that point of view before. In truth, she hadn't considered the mark much at all. But she didn't want to think with this type of logic. If she thought about it, she honestly believed that she was drawn to Ned because of Ned, not because the mark told her to be. Nevertheless she felt bad for Lyanna, if it was as Ned said, and she needed the freedom to choose as badly as her brother needed Dawn, then this match with the Crown Prince could prove problematic. For no one is on a tighter leash than a future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She resolved herself in that moment to find a way to spend a bit more time with Ned's sister.   
  
 They were approaching the entrance when Ned pulled her back to wait on the others to come into position beside them. He turned to address the group as a whole. "Lady Ashara is going to go in alone to announce all of us. We will wait here until she comes to retreive us." Everyone nodded in agreement, and Ashara found herself wondering how on earth Lord Rickard managed to raise four children who were so in sync as the four of them were.  Ned turned to her last. " We will be here when you get back." he said with a shy smile.   
  
She smiled back at him, and then reconsidered. Leaning forward, she planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, before she backed away and turned to enter the Godswood.   
  
  She found them by the Heart tree, practicing swordplay with two blunted blades.  _He must have been prepared to wait for her to come to him, if he brought tourney blades with him._ He must have heard her approach, because he stepped away from Arthur, putting an end to the match. She announced her position before she stepped from the tree line. "It is only I, Ashara."  
  
  This seemed to have confused the Prince because his brow furrowed at the mention of her name. "Pardon, Lady Ashara but did you not see the Lady Lyanna when you went to deliver the message?" the Prince enquired of her.   
  
 "Indeed, and I did. That is the reason I am here actually." This must have caught his attention, because he snapped his head in her direction and bid her continue with whatever it was she was about to say.  "As I was saying, I did deliver your message to the Lady Lyanna, and that is why I have come,"   
  
  "She declined?" the prince looked as if his whole world had shattered.  
  
  She almost considered tormenting him a bit longer, but she decided against it in the end. "She did not. In fact, she had intended on seeking an audience with you and her brothers during the tourney. Only your invitation seemed to provide a better excuse."   
  
  "Please forgive me, but if she did not decline, then why have you come and not she?" She wasn't sure how to proceed, but no matter what she said, the whole Stark pack had come, and she needed to tell them.   
  
 "Rest easy, My Prince, she has come. I only come to announce her, but before I bring her to you, I needed to tell you both something. . ." She pushed on, approaching her brother and the Prince. "It has come to my attention that there are things going on in your life that I have been unaware of," He was about to interrupt but she pushed on, "It is not my place to make demands of you, your grace. I only wish I had known, because it effects me too." At this revelation, it had became clear that she needed to do more than just tell him.   
  
 "Can I see it?" she decided to ask him.   
  
  "Can you see it?" Rhaegar chirped back at her dumbly. She had to stop herself from laughing at him. Instead she shot him a quizzical brow.   
  
   "Your mark, I know you have one." She was tired of playing this game with him.  
  
  "How could you— How?"   
  
  "Fine, but this changes nothing." She pulled up the sleeve of her dress to reveal her mark. "Now," she said with an exasperated tone. "I will see your mark."  
  
  The look on her brother's face was priceless. But the prince was downright floored. It took a little longer than she would have liked for him to pull back the sleeve of his tunic and reveal his mark, but there it was all the same, a silver dragon taking wing, in all of its glory. She wanted to touch it, but she thought better of it. After having her own, and learning that it requires touch to activate the bond. Making contact with the princes seemed like a violation toward his bond mate. She pulled her hand back to her side and nodded. "Very well, I shall go and retreive her for you." And she would have, but she remembered that Lyanna was not alone, so she added, "The Lady Lyanna is accompanied by her brothers Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen and their fathers Bannerman Lord Howland Reed. I understand that you intended to have this discussion in private, but as you can see, you are not alone in this situation."   
  
  "Ashara— wait," it was Rhaegar. She turned back to face him. "Is your mark complete then?" She nodded in affirmation, and he nodded back. 

* * *

  **The Silver Prince**

* * *

  Arthur arrived just as Rhaegar was finishing his business with Richard and Marq, which was perfect. He had just enough time to change and then leave for the Godswood.  
  
  "I trust all is well?"  
  
  Arthur nodded in confirmation. "Ashara was leaving Elia when I found her, I asked her to escort me to the northern camp, but she agreed to go in my stead, and I of course knew that she would, which is why I asked her to escort me. She had not returned before I set back in this direction, and I did not see her as I made my way back here. So I assume that she made it to the Northern camp."  
  
  "Very well, how shall we train? One sword or two today?" He knew the answer before Arthur gave it. Rhaegar was a decent swordsmen, but he was nowhere near the skill level required to wield two blades at the same time. He was left handed, and that gave him a fair advantage over most opponents, due to how rare it was too encounter a left handed swordsmen. But his right hand still needed refinement. Which is precisely why he knew what Arthur would say.   
  
  "Two," he smiled cheekily. "If you have to ask, then you already know my choice, why must you torture yourself by making me say it?"  
  
  He shrugged. "Come, let us go see about this weirwood tree the northmen are so fond of."   
  
  Their camp was the closest to the castle. Originally Lord Whent had prepared rooms for the Royal family to stay in during the event, but Rhaegar chose to keep a tent rather than rooms inside the castle. He wanted to be with the other Lords of the Realm, as a sign of solidarity. He had never felt a sense of entitlement that some born of noble birth do, and he never wanted to be seen as more deserving of comfort than the next man or woman working to provide an honest living. The grounds were still quite busy, men and women moving about, some deep in conversation, others doing what he and Arthur planned to do while they wait on the Lady Lyanna in the Godswood. It wouldn't take long at all to find a place among the trees to spar while they wait.   
  
  As it turned out, they arrived first so they made their way through the Oaks and Pine trees to a clearing about one-hundred feet inside the tree line, where a massive Weirwood sat in silent vigil. Along its flank ran thirteen deep gouges, over one-hundred-fifty years old. He remembered reading that they weep red sap every spring. He was curious, so he walked around the tree until he was looking straight at the scars. But they were not weeping, they were red to be sure, and Rhaegar could see where they had been weeping in the years previous, but they were not weeping at this point in time. And suddenly her words rang in his head as clear as a bell, _"I'm telling you Ben, the Citadel is wrong, winter is not over."_    
  
  Could she have been right? He had much to work through, of this alone, he was sure of. Steeling himself, he turned away from the tree and picked up his training swords, and moved toward Arthur.  
  
  "Shall we dance?' he was wound tight, and he still had some time before he would know if she was coming. Arthur picked up his swords, rolling his shoulders, he took his position.   
  
  "Now it begins." he said with a wicked grin. Rhaegar inclined his chin in agreement and assumed his position as well. Arthur could take him easy enough, Rhaegar knew. The best he could do would be to be patient, and use the environment to his benefit. He scanned the ground, looking for hidden footholds, or pools of water, all the while slowly circling around keeping a respectable distance between himself and his opponent.   
  
  In all respects of the word whether it be a spar, or single combat, this was a delicate dance between the hunted and the hunter. Rhaegar for his part was determined to play the hunter today. Arthur must have grown tired of this slow dance, because he raised his right arm and went to strike from high, but Rhaegar saw that one coming and spun out of his reach  and swung his left blade out to graze across Arthur's back. Arthur too was expecting this, and spun out of his reach just before a hit could land.   
  
And so their dance began...  
  
  Moving so that the sun was at his back, he swung with his right hand, catching Arthur off guard. He would never beat Arthur with it, so he could only use it when he could do the most damage. In the end, it would always come back to his strong hand. Even if he couldn't deny the benefit of training both hands. His first blow swung true, glancing off of Arthur's right arm. Rhaegar retreated again.   
  
  "Lucky strike, wont happen again book worm." Arthur taunted.  
  
  "You may be right, Ser. Shall we?" He was no stranger to humility. Arthur was superb, and one day his son would squire for the knight. There was none better to train a future king of the Seven Kingdoms. No one better to train the Sword that Brings the Dawn. _His 'Promised Prince'_. . . Still, that did not mean he would simply throw down arms and accept his defeat. He had learned long ago, if things you practiced weren't hard then you weren't learning. So he would give it his all regardless of how many times he shamed himself with his right hand. _One day, I may not always be able to depend on my left.  
  
_  Again, they circled, it was Arthur who went on the offensive this time, coming in with both blades, first his right followed by his left, he dodged the first and deflected the second, but lost his footing, and stumbled back a bit loosing the advantage. Arthur pressed on, "You're going to have to do better than that, Your Grace."   
  
  Rhaegar gritted his teeth. He was right, he needed to be better than he was, that was the whole point of becoming a swordsmen in the first place. He needed to be able to prove himself. Not to his father, nay. He had another person he needed to prove himself to. And he could feel it coming, and when it does he would be ready. He nodded his head in understanding. "Again."  
  
 This time, Rhaegar advanced leading with his left hand, swinging a low cut toward his opponents feet, which Arthur dodged, but going for the element of surprise, he pivoted back in the direction Arthur fled to and swept his right _arm_ out in a wide arc, and his sword was locked between Arthur's two blades. Rhaegar grinned, and pushed his advantage shoving back at Arthur. Behind him there was a root that had grown from the soil. Not a huge one, but big enough to trip him up enough to disarm him.   
  
  Arthur still had one blade in his hands when they heard footsteps approaching. Rhaegar was no fool, just because he was able to knock one blade from Arthur's grasp, did not mean he had won on any level. " Shall we call it a draw? At least for the moment."   
  
  He nodded, "Ashara approaches."  
  
  Confused, he turned to see the Lady Ashara approach."Pardon, Lady Ashara but did you not see the Lady Lyanna when you went to deliver the message?"   
  
 "Indeed, and I did. That is the reason I am here actually."  _Oh gods, she refused..."_ As I was saying, I did deliver your message to the Lady Lyanna, and that is why I have come,"   
  
  "She declined?" He felt himself start to panic.  
  
  "She did not. In fact, she had intended on seeking an audience with you and her brothers during the tourney. Only your invitation seemed to provide a better excuse."   
  
_What was that supposed to mean?_  
  
He had been in the middle of assuming the worst when he realized what the Lady Ashara had said.    
  
  "Can you see it?" _How in the hell did she know about my mark?_ He was in a panic. _Who else knew?  
  
_ And before he knew what was happening, she was revealing what appeared to be her very own  _Ink mark_. He was stumped. _Had Elia known about this? Had Arthur?_ He turned to look at his best friend, but the look on his face proved that he had known nothing. The rest of what she had said passed by quickly and he forgot it before she finished and went to retreat back toward the entrance.   
  
 "Ashara— wait," She turned back to face him. "Is your mark complete then?" She nodded before going to get Lyanna and her brothers.   
  
  "How in the hell did we miss this?" Arthur spoke first.  
  
  "I was just about to ask you the same thing." He was genuinely stumped. "That does explain her behavior with the Stark boy last night though, don't you think?"  
  
  "And you've had me sending Ash on errands for you all day," Arthur glowered at him.   
  
  "Calm down Arthur, I am sure your sister was treated gently. What ever they say about Northmen, the Starks are an honorable lot. If it were the older one, I would understand your ire, but it is the second one. I have heard nothing but praise for the lad. But be calm, you will meet him soon enough, and besides its not as if they had a choice in any of this. And they did not have to do anything to secure the bond. I am sure your sister is yet untouched." This seemed to help ease Arthur some as he visibly relaxed after hearing Rhaegar's words.  
  
  He turned and walked back to the weirwood where he left his things and placed the tourney swords against the trunk. He bent to retrieve his water skin and took a drink before he turned around to see Lyanna and her brothers and the boy she had rescued the day before approaching. He took a deep breath, and walked to over to greet them properly.

* * *

**The Ravens Agent**

* * *

  As they entered the clearing that housed the heart tree, Howland noticed the Prince walking toward them. This was it, this is the moment that will alter at least _one_ possible outcome, though if his dreams were correct, the story was still on track. But the balance is shaky at best. One misstep, one mistake, and  everything can fall apart, however the main issue seems to be resolved, _for now._

  
_No, hot headed Brandon running off to spark the flame that pitted the wolf against the dragon._ _  
_ _  
_   While everyone is concerned with completing the bond and comparing information, Howland settled himself in near the base of the heart tree and waited for them to calm. He had much to tell them, and he still hadn’t figured out what to share vs what he should hold close. Some of this story needs to be told to his liege lord as well.  
  
  It was the Lord’s heir who spoke first, approaching the prince he bowed his head in respect. Even though Howland could feel the agitation rolling off the ‘Wild-wolf’. Howland had to admit he was impressed to see him trying for civility. The truth was, Brandon was always going to be the biggest issue in this scenario. His love of his sister blinds him. _He still sees his mother’s face when he looks at her._ _  
_  
  “Your Grace, please forgive us for coming with our sister. We understand that you meant to speak with her of a private matter,” he paused, struggling not to let his next words come out wrong. “However, my sister is still a young woman and she has no business receiving these types of requests , regardless of whether they were written in the hand of a prince or any other man. Should you like to speak with her in the future, please show more regard for her character and her reputation, and send a request for one of her brothers to accompany her.” Howland was impressed by Brandon’s attempt at chiding the prince. And it looked as if Lyanna was as well. Her face was locked in silent shock.  
  
  The prince was the next to speak. “You're right, of course. But please understand, what I meant to discuss with her, I didn't want to announce to the entirety of the realm. I was not even sure she would be my link.” Rhaegar began to explain,  but it was Ned who spoke next.  
  
  “You know that to be a lie, with respect, My Prince. The Lady Ashara and myself knew from across the Great Hall that we were a link,” he pushed back his sleeve and revealed his bond mark, “the moment she took my arm, our marks merged. So I suspect that you’ve simply refrained from securing the bond. Why?”  
  
   The prince took in a deep breath, and then released it before his eyes drifted toward Lyanna, and just like magic, Howland saw her blue thread reach for his silver thread and merge together, pulling them tight making the two of them move closer to one another. The princes reply was offered only to Lyanna. “Because I was born knowing my own destiny, and I did not want to take this choice from you. . .”  
  
  Howland saw the moment all the fear Lyanna had been holding fled from her. Whatever it was she had been scared of, the Prince seemed to have banished with that declaration. And ironically, so did any tension Brandon had been holding onto.  
  
  This was it, this is the right time to share. . . he cleared his throat. “I do believe you’ve all got questions, and as I’ve told the Lady Lyanna, you're not alone, there is another who needs to hear all of this, but that will come later, I suspect. Please, all of you, come closer and I will tell you what I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: The Isle of Faces and Howlands task.


	16. A Guide of Ice and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howland helps Lyanna and Rhaegar as well as the rest of the Pack understand whats going on.

**The Ravens Agent**

* * *

  
  
  
  "As you all may have heard, the people of the North have long been referred to as the First Men, and with good cause. They were the first people since the Dawn Age to migrate into the Lands now called Westeros. But before the coming of our ancestors, the Weirwoods ruled this land, with the aid of the Children of the Forest, _though_ , this is also a name we have given them. In truth their name is too long and too harsh for our own tongue, but it translates to ' _The Singers of the Earth_ '."  
   
   "Long ago during the Dawn Age, the only peoples to inhabit this land were the _Singers_ and the Giants, who were as much kin to them as they were foe. They lived in caves and hollow hills, and in the deep wood, and the Singers sang the songs of the land. They sang the song of the seasons, of the great grass plains, and the rain kissed earth of the Rainwood. They sung the path for the trident, and the white knife, and most of all they tended the weirwoods. Sometimes the Old Gods would choose to bless the _Singers_ with particular gifts, for example, the color of my eyes, is like the color of moss, Green, a deeper green than is natural. It speaks of the magic in the blood of my people. Just as the violet and indigo and lilac of House Targaryen, and the Steel-Grey, Ice-Grey and Blue-Grey of House Stark. Some were born with eyes of gold as bright as the sun, some with eyes as green as my own, and every now and again the gods would bestow a chosen with eyes as red as blood. And this is how the gods would mark their chosen. The color speaks of the gift." He paused a moment.

  "I believe that both House Stark and House Targaryen share an ancestor who was gifted eyes of red." it was both Lyanna and Rhaegar who spoke up.

  "Lord Brynden Rivers, also known as Bloodraven. How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? A thousand-eyes-and-one." they both intoned at the same time. 

  "He was born the natural son of Aegon IV with Hair as silver white as fallen snow, and eyes the color of blood, marked by a blood red raven that soared across his visage. He lost one eye on the battlefield to his half brother Aegor Rivers better known as Bittersteel, and he was said to be considered a sorcerer. Are you suggesting that the Old Gods marked him?" it was the Prince to ask this question.

 "I am indeed. You should ask him if you aren't inclined to believe me. Though that would involve a journey beyond the wall, and at present there is no time for that." The prince was stunned by this revelation, and Howland couldn't say he blamed him. It was quite a lot to digest.

 “There will be plenty of time to discuss the Bloodraven, but for now, our time is limited, so we must make haste with the facts.” He didn’t want to push them, but their time was indeed short. Especially for a group as large as theirs to just be chatting in the godswood.

 He pushed on, “After the First Men began their migration, they began to settle the lands and as such, they began cutting down the Weirwoods, as they believed the _Singers_ would use the eyes of the trees to spy on them, and this ignited a war that lasted hundreds of years. Eventually, the _Singers_ whose numbers were already few, and the First Men who had also lost innumerable lives, came together on the Isle of Faces to seal a pact of friendship. For they had a common foe that was growing in power, and if they were to survive, they would need to band together.”

 “The Others?” The Prince said in a whisper.

 “Then, as they are now.” The entire group snapped to attention at this revelation. He had expected this of course. He knew that everyone here, save the prince believed these to be nursery tales. But the truth is seldom easy to digest. “They rest under the ice, but make no mistake, they aren’t gone. And that Wall was for _our_ protection from _them,_ not from our _own_ people.”

 “So, the _Singers_ and the First Men sealed a pact, and the trees on the isle were all carved to bear witness to the Pact. Afterwards, the Order of Green Men was created and It was the Green Men who were charged with tending the Weirwoods and protecting the isle.” He paused before continuing.

 “The pact was simple, the Singers would cede all of the lands of Westeros save the deep forests, and the First Men promised to never cut down the weirwoods. And eventually, the First Men adapted their beliefs to accept the _Nameless_ _Ones_  as their own."

 "This is where things get interesting, does anyone have an idea of who the Green Men were, and where they originated from?”

 This time the Quiet-wolf spoke. “It is said that the Children—, I mean _Singers_ and the Marsh peoplelay together, passing their combined bloodlines down to their offspring who were later called the Green Men. These men were charged with the care of the Weirwoods.” Ned finished

 “Very good, you know more than I had expected. But tell me, what do you know of my people?” He watched as brother and sister locked eyes on one another. _Was this another conversation they had shared amongst each other?_

Tentatively, Ned spoke again. “Howland, I can’t say what the truth is, but I did find something in the history of my house, while Lya and I were researching our marks.”

 Howland nodded, “Please, I’m sure everyone else would like to hear.”

 “It’s in regard to the Starks conquest of the North.” He stated.

 “Ah, I see. Very well, I suppose that’s a great place to start.” He gestured for Ned to continue.

 “The Marsh King's were an ancient line, who guarded the Neck from invaders for centuries, it’s even written in the histories that the Marsh King's were believed to have been touched by the gods themselves, which shone through in the strange hues of their eyes, or their ability to speak with animals the way the _Singers_ were able to.”

  Howland nodded his encouragement. _The quiet one was clearly on the right path._ He hadn’t known that Winterfell still housed many of the truths that have been forgotten in the North.

  “It’s rumored that the Crannogmen are kin to the ancient Marsh king's, who were also kin to the _Singers_.” _Very good,_ Howland mused to himself.

  He nodded once more. “And what did you learn about Meera Reed and Rickard Stark?”

  “We learned that Meera Reed, the only daughter to the last Marsh King was taken to wife by our ancestor Rickard  after the male line had been put to the sword. Even though Rickard and Meera were an _inked_ pair.” Everyone aside from Ned, Lyanna and the Prince reacted to this revelation.  
  
_So you do know something..?_

It was Brandon who spoke up next. “Forgive me, Lord Reed, but, what do the histories have anything to do with what’s going on presently?”

  “Well, nothing, and everything.” He answered cryptically. “I have things that I must share with the four of them,” he gestured toward Lya and the Prince and then Ned and the Lady Ashara. “But before I get to that, I first need them to understand, how it is that I came to be their guide.”

   _So impatient, everyone seeks answers, but none care to listen when the answers are forthcoming…_ he thought to himself.

  “Shall I continue now, or are there more questions?” He probably could have been more tactful, but their time was running short.

  Luckily enough, Brandon seemed properly admonished and gave his apology and ascent to continue, so before picking up where they had paused he decided to add, “I understand how anxious everyone is for answers,  but there’s no easy way to say what needs to be said, no way to streamline this explanation.” This seemed to pacify the group, so Howland jumped right back into his tale.

  “We spoke of the Green Men, and their origins for a reason,” he paused, “as Ned said earlier, House Reed  descends from the line of the last Marsh King, and the Marsh King's are believed to share blood with the _Singers_ . I can confirm for all of you the validity of this claim as I, Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch have the blood of the _Singers_ and the ancient Marsh King's running through my veins.” Lyanna did not seem shocked by this news at all. Though the rest of them all sported a look that suggested their lives had been flipped upside down.  
  
  It was the looks that the Lady Ashara and her brother Ser Arthur wore that made him consider them. _Have they no idea the origins of their line? That they belong to the blood of the First Men just as the Starks beside them? Do they know that their lineage is just as impeccable, and not without its own darkness?_ He would ponder over all that later on, he had a story to finish…

  “Last year, I heard the _Call._ I was home, in Greywater Watch preparing for winter when I felt the pull to come south come on suddenly, and it would not relent until I set off on my quest.  You see, we Crannogmen seldomly leave our bogs and forests. We were charged by our liege lords to hold the Neck against any threat, and so, for thousands of years that is what we have done, never feeling the need to venture too far north or south. That is, until I received the _Call."_

  "I have always been considered more curious than most, more _bold_ , and I mastered all the skills of my people early on. So when it came time for me to answer the _Call_ , I did so with gusto.”

  “I’m sorry, but what were the skills you needed to master?” This time it was Benjen. _Such a curious lad… he would do well in the Neck…_

 _“_ You know what they say about Greywater Watch.” It wasn’t a question, but they all nodded their heads in confirmation anyway. “Good; then you understand that Greywater has never been attacked by an outside invader, not even one from the North. That, is because no one can find it. We learn early how to use the magic within our blood. If one possesses the gift, they can breathe mud, walk on water, communicate through the weirwoods and see through their eyes, as well as make castles appear and disappear among other things. Not all, but some of my line have these gifts. And over time the histories were compiled to explain these gifts to our people. We indeed, inherited our gifts from the _Singers_ , who once sung the songs of this land, who created the seasons along with the day and the night. And it is through them we inherited our connection to the earth.” He gave them all a moment to let this sink in.

  Lyanna was the next to speak. “So that is how you ended up attending this tourney, you were called to the Isle of Faces because you possess the gift of Green Sight?” She was very perceptive, though this was no shock to him. If anyone would understand this path, it would be she. For Lyanna also shared a connection to the Gods and the _Singers_ , she just didn’t know it yet, and he could not elaborate on the matter until Lord Rickard was present.

  “I admit, I do not possess the Greensight, my son will, but that is a song yet unsung, and not worth discussing at present.”

  “What I have is a sensitivity to the songs of the earth, and the Gods have granted me the ability to view and observe the threads of the great Tapestry of Time. I can see certain threads, specifically the threads belonging to the four of you, but only because the Gods have chosen me as your guide. But more specifically— _your_ guide.” He gestured to Lyanna and the Prince. "I can use the songs of my people to help me blend into the shadows, and I can of course breathe mud, walk on water, and make Greywater move and or disappear if needed, among other things, but I am not a Greenseer."

   They both turned to look at each other and then back to Howland before he spoke again. “My Prince, you sent a rider to Lord Rickard recently, am I correct?” The prince nodded. Howland turned to Brandon, “Would you be so kind as to share the response your Lord Father sent to you?”

  Brandon inclined his head, and pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. “He asks that I make time to speak with you in regards to your message. He asks me to ensure you know that you have the full support of our House, and he asks that I inform you that the matter with the ravens is settled.” But Brandon wasn’t finished.

  “You asked my father to delay Lya’s betrothal. What could you possibly have said to him to convince him of this?” He wasn’t angry, but Howland knew that Brandon didn’t trust the prince’s intentions. Even with all that has been revealed this far.

  Howland decided it would be best to redirect the conversation. He turned to the Prince, “Tell me, Prince Rhaegar, what do you know of the Pact of Ice and Fire? Howland knew that the prince was making progress on this matter, but he still didn’t understand how detrimental He and Lyanna are to its fulfillment.

  The prince nodded, as if he’d been prepared to answer this question. “During the Dance of Dragons, Jacaerys Velaryon flew north to the Vale and then Winterfell to seek aid against the “Green” party who were attempting to Usurp the Crown Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Jace’s mother.” He stopped for a breath and then continued. “He was successful on both accounts, though was delayed at Winterfell by Cregan Stark, who before promising support took the time to remind Jace of the promise made to the North by Aegon the Conqueror at the time of conquest. A promise to unite the bloodlines of Stark and Targaryen through marriage. A daughter of the Dragon to sit beside the Direwolf. A promise Aegon readily made, for in truth, they shared the same goal. The union of Ice and Fire—, a ‘promised prince’.

  Again, Howland found himself impressed by the knowledge of his charges. Nevertheless, it wasn’t everything, as technically this will be the second joining of Ice and Fire. “Very good. You know more than most, yet there is more to this story. You see, once I heard the _Call_ , I sought out the Godswood to learn what the Gods needed of me, and the first clue  was a suggestion. A scent, lingering on the wind, one that existed in perfect balance with another. Winter Roses coupled by ash and brimstone.” The Princes eyes went wide.

 “Still, it was merely a suggestion, and I needed to know more, so I went for my bronze sickle,” he looked to Lyanna when he said this part, knowing she would understand the importance of it. “And then I returned to the Godswood and made an offering, for clarity.” Lyanna nodded her approval, as he knew she would. “That night, I received my answer via a series of images. I suspect that all four of you have had some experience with vision sequences since your marks appeared, hmm?” It wasn’t really a question, merely an observation, yet they all nodded again in confirmation.  
  
 “Should you like to know what I saw?” again all nodded their ascent.  
  
  “ _A silver dragon, alone in the darkness, a blue rose blossoming in a winter storm, blue eyes the color of ice, a comet of fire and a comet of ice dancing together, but never canceling out the other. Green flame, a falling star, a quiet wolf howling southward to the nights sky. A great She-wolf protecting her pups from the Stag that hunts them. A mad dragon and a golden Knight. I saw a smith hard at work with a look of desperation and determination in his eye, and Dragons ruling over the Smoking Sea.”_ He’d seen much more through the _Tapestry of Time_ but he had to choose what to reveal and when to reveal it.  
  
 “I'm the winter rose blossoming in the storm.” It was Lyanna to speak first. “I was born in a storm, it came from nowhere and raged on and on until I drew my first breath. The winter winds nourish me and make me strong where others wither and weaken.” Brandon spoke next.  
  
 “Aye, you are the winter winds. They bow only to you.” He said this in all seriousness, Howland suspected it was because Brandon knew the validity of this claim, and he wanted the others to as well.  
  
 It was Howland’s turn to confirm this. “What you say is true, Lya. This is no mere story, You were born with winter in your heart. The Gods have favored you since the day of your birth, they have fashioned you, alongside another to bring balance.” He turned to the prince then.  
  
_“Are you powerful, My Prince? Do the gods favor you?”_ he parroted Lyanna’s words from the previous night back to him. “A silver dragon hatched in green flame. . . The greater part of your line almost extinct in a night all to bring back dragons to the world.”  
  
 “Aye, and yet he failed. Our House almost stricken from the pages of history. And all my great-grandsire accomplished was my safe birth. I've been haunted by the ghosts of my kin, cursed to finish his work.” the prince sounded so ashamed. He clearly didn't understand what victory had been achieved that night.  
  
 “You don't understand, My Prince. There was indeed a victory to be had at Summerhall that night. Dragons had been the goal, and dragons were the reward.” The prince was positively confused. And rightly so, “You see, Aegon believed that dragons had been gone from the world, and for all anyone knows, they are. But this isn't the case, and you of all people know this. Tell me, has she given her name?”

  Rhaegar’s eyes went wide. “You know?” Howland nodded.  
  
 “Now’s not the time, but yes.” Quickly he continued, “We all take on something to represent ourselves, for my house, it is the Lizard Lion, for yours it is the Dragon. Though after the death of the female line during the Dance of Dragons, your House lost its connection to your most valuable asset. No longer could the Blood of the Dragon call to its other half. Until your great grandfather and your uncles and countless others sacrificed their lives through _fire and blood_ to wake the dragon. Tell me, My Prince, how fares the queen in the birthing bed?"  
  
  The Prince and even Ser Arthur looked absolutely horrified that he would ask such a question, he held up his hands as a peace offering. "I mean no disrespect, I only wished to point out that the fire burns hotter for her. What your great grandfather did was bring back the magic in the blood of your house. You, My Prince are the first and only  _Dragon_ , born to your house in over one-hundred-fifty years. Born through fire and blood, and My Prince, your first breath woke dragons. Do you know her name?"  
  
  He knew it would be a moment before the prince would respond. This was after all, a lot to take in. But he soon forged on, "So you are saying that not real dragons were hatched at Summerhall that night, but metaphorical dragons?" Howland nodded.   
  
  "That is exactly what I am saying, though I would not refer to you as a metaphor, you are every bit a dragon, just as she," he gestured toward Lyanna, "is every bit a direwolf. But there is more to both of you than just what your spirit claims you to be. You are fire made flesh, and Lyanna, She is winter." Lyanna beamed at this, though Howland did not mean it as a compliment. It was a fact.   
  
  "I don't know her name..." the prince finally confessed.   
  
  "Ah, but you do. You know what she looks like, you've heard her voice she is everywhere, and you are the mirror image to her soul. I am sure if you think about it some, her name will come to you." He didn't know much more about her, but he knew that she had buried herself away from the world, she had lost too much, and she didn't trust her blood any longer. No one was safe, no where was safe, so she had fled, and burrowed deep into the earth. And she woke the day that the Prince was born at Summerhall. But he did not know how to bring her to the prince, and he did not want to give him false hope, so he would not say more. The Prince had everything he needed within him to summon her to him, but he has to be the one to do it.  
  
  The Prince seemed to be taking in everything he had just learned, overall Howland was impressed by how well things were going this far. Finally he spoke again. "If I am fire made flesh, that is Fire, and if Lyanna is Winter, assuming you mean this as a literal thing, that means she is Ice. And the prophecy speaks of Ice and Fire, Salt and Smoke. Two interpretations of the same thing. Or the physical manifestation of the weirwood, this is why the Gods marked us then, is it not?" He did not focus on Howland, instead he turned his gaze to Lyanna who had been quiet for the most part, taking everything in herself.   
  
  "You are very intelligent, My Prince, when did you figure out that Ice and fire and Salt and Smoke were one and the same?" Howland had been in the dark on this.  
  
  “My mother has always been against the prophecy, she was forced to wed my father because of it you see. So while I grew, and came to take it more seriously, she would take to reminding me that prophecy was like a treacherous woman. So I tried to view the prophecy through the eyes of someone being deceived, and eventually it occurred to me that the words in the prophecy were ambiguous at best. And if they could be deceitful then I needed to be able to see another way they could be perceived, and that is when I realized that the prophecy was given by someone who had never seen Westeros. Never seen Snow, only Salt. The prophecy is one from before the doom of Valyria. They could not possibly have seen the image clear enough to understand what they were seeing. I have always known that the blood of the dragon represented the smoke aspect which I then translated into Fire. The Prophecy claimed that the Promised Prince would be born of _Salt and Smoke_ and as such my remaining kin became convinced that I was he, I even believed it myself for a time. And then I remembered that perception can be ambiguous. They believed that the salt came from the tears that were wept for the ones we lost that day, and the joy of welcoming me into the world. But it seemed like a stretch to me. Salt dehydrates, water evaporates in fire, so I dismissed this too as a possibility. Sea water and tears would not do, so something more solid or a like substance to compare salt too, and that is when I came up with Ice. The only substance in the world that can burn just as hot as fire... And that is when it came to me. The next day I woke to my mark.” Again, he turned to Lyanna.  
  
  “I understand that this is a lot to digest, I have spent my entire life looking for you. I did not know that you were to be mine, and I yours but I have always understood that I have a destiny far greater than the one that is pulling me toward the Iron Throne. I understand if you are unsure about me, you hardly know me. I called you here to remedy that, but instead I got all of this,” he gestured toward their assembled group. Everyone standing back in silence while the Prince and the she-wolf worked through everything they had just learned. “And I am glad for it. But I am curious, Lyanna, what are your thoughts?”  
  
_Well isn't that the million dragon question… She has been unusually quiet through all of this.  
__  
_ Lyanna, bold and fearless though she was, did not like being put on the spot. Especially not in front of a group of people mostly consisting of her brothers. He smiled then at her expense, a rare moment for her. She took a few moments before she replied.  
  
  “I am not afraid of my destiny,” she held her head high. “It is true, we do not know each other, yet you’ve shown me more consideration in the past fifteen minutes since I entered this clearing than the man whom I thought to be forced into marrying. I have always known myself to be winter, though when put into words such as Howland's, I never considered the physical manifestation of it.” She did not cower away from her calling, and Howland knew he was ready to help her seal the pact between them once and for all. But the she-wolf wasn’t finished. “Last year, when the mark appeared, I told my Ned, that the gods had marked me, and they alone knew my destiny. I believe that still, and everything that I have found, everything that we all just heard, only confirms what I already knew.” She was fidgeting with her mark, though she had yet to reveal it, and apparently Howland was not the only one to notice.  
  
  “Does it bother you?” it was the Prince that spoke up.  
  
  “No, it tingles, but it is not unbearable, I am curious though.” she replied.  
  
  “Curious?” the Prince prodded.  
  
  “Does your mark emit a temperature?” The prince began to smile the moment the question passed through her lips, but he did not answer her question. Instead he asked a question of his own.  
   
  “Does yours?” Lyanna nodded.  The prince swallowed, “May I?”  
  
  Lyanna backed up, pulling her arm away so he could not grasp it. “I'm sorry, it's just— i'm not ready. I mean, I am, but not yet. You are married and have a child, and there’s Robert to consider, and your father, and my father…” She was spinning out.  
  
 “Hush now, little pup all is well.” It was Brandon who spoke up, taking two long strides to stand beside her. He pulled her into a protective embrace, and turned to the prince.  
  
  “I may not be marked, and I may not have a say in all of this, but Lyanna does. And if she wants to take more time, then she will take as much time as she wants. Am I clear?” Howland understood that this was promised to her, and it was his duty as her brother to protect her. As if to reinforce what the wild-wolf had just said, the young-pup came up behind Lyanna and his brother, and placed his hand into her free one.  
  
  The Prince nodded in understanding. “I would never presume to secure the bond without your permission. Though I would like the opportunity to address some of your concerns if I may. Though, I worry that we have been here for too long as it is, I will say this. The moment my mark appeared, I began looking into it. I sent to the Wall, to my uncle Aemon, for information. When he finally wrote back to confirm what I already knew, I went to Elia and told her everything. To my surprise, Elia had her own knowledge of these marks. I knew that there would be no denying the mark, nor would the Gods allow it and I planned to wait until I found you before I acted. But Elia would not hear it, she wanted to give the person that the Gods promised me to, the only thing she could. All of me, all of my future to the person the gods had intended me for. She bid me call the septon and to have our marriage dissolved. For her heart had never been mine, nor mine hers. Elia and I have been separate for nearly seven moons. Though I would ask all of you to not repeat what you’ve just heard. My father does not know, about the annulment nor the marks.” The prince looked stressed with the revelation of his annulment, or perhaps it was due to the next words that came from his lips. “The mark means more to some people than it means to others though. Some will see this as a way to unseat my father, and I worry that my father will see this threat, and try to harm you, or me.” he sighed. “Which only means, the only way to guarantee that no harm comes to you, is to do what he fears the most, force him to abdicate.”  
  
  Howland had been expecting this of course. The whole point of the tourney was to gather support to call a great council. It did not stop Brandon’s eyes from going wide at the princes confirmation. “So you admit it, this was your intent. That is the real reason for this tourney?”  
  
 The Princes eyes narrowed, “The real reason for this tourney is to celebrate the name day of Lord Whent’s daughter. However, I won't deny the benefit of having the lords of the realm, at least most of the lords in the realm all in one place. But I have no interest in placing your sister in harm’s way, and if my choices are between her safety and my potential throne, I will choose her safety every time. My life means naught without her to stand beside me. After all you’ve heard, do you really think I would jeopardize the future of humanity for a chair?”  
  
  Howland thought on this for a moment before he responded. “It is because you are reluctant to rule, to seize power, that you must. Though our time for this discussion is at its end, we all have our duties to attend before the feast, and the hours are growing shorter.”  
  
  It was Lyanna to speak next. “I— Rhaegar, I’m not ready to secure the link. But If it's not too much,  would you show me your mark?” She looked to her brothers, a silent plea to give her space, and then back to the prince for his answer. He nodded to her and she began to approach him. Howland noticed the Quiet-one move to say his goodbye to the Lady Ashara, while Ser Arthur moved to gather their belongings that were stationed beside him under the heart tree. And without being too obvious, Howland listened to the words being shared between the prince and the she-wolf.    
  
  “I would very much like to see your mark,” the prince replied “and I give you my word I won't try anything.” The she-wolf gave a tentative smile, and proceeded forward until they were less than a foot apart. She had already pulled her sleeve back by the time she was close enough to him, so he busied himself with the strings of his tunic once more. She went first lifting her hand so that he could see clearly. He then offered her his hand as well. Her eyes went wide, his were more subdued.  
  
  “Have you seen Ned and Ashara’s marks? It looks like a picture.” she asked, Howland could tell she was nervous.  
  
  “Briefly, I had no idea that Ashara had a mark until she came to announce you.” Howland was not sure if he was detecting some irritation in his voice. “But yes, I did see it, and I agree. It looks like a picture.”  
  
  “What do you think ours will look like when they join?”  
  
  He shrugged. “I suppose we will know when or if they merge.” the prince replied but then added, “You may not even be my link, don't be so sure of yourself.” he said cockily.  
  
  Lyanna snorted before she burst out in uncontrolled laughter. “You flatter yourself, My Prince.” she teased back.  
  
 “May I make a request?” the prince asked her earnestly. Lyanna nodded. “ I won't touch you, I know that physical contact will seal the bond, and I won't take that choice from you, no matter how badly everything inside me is urging me to, but my mark emits heat. And those who have touched it, have said it burns. You’ve said yours emits temperature as well,” he sighed before he continued. “May I?” He moved his hand to hover over where her mark was, and waited for her permission.  
  
  Rather than give voice to her approval, she turned her wrist so that he could feel it directly under his palm. His reaction was instantaneous. “It's cold! I— I didn't expect that.” his brows furrowed. “Of course your mark emits cold!” he chastised himself before looking her in the eye once more.  “I would very much like to dance with you this evening, but I understand that until you are ready that is impossible. Promise me something though?” She nodded. “Promise me you won't go near Robert. I have asked a favor of some friends to help keep him distracted, but I do not trust the look in his eyes when he is around you.”  
  
This must have caught her off guard, because she really did laugh this time. “Fear not, My Prince I shall endeavor to dissuade that giant oaf away from me should he try. And if I have no success, then I have my pack.” She beamed at him. Behind her, the pack perked up at the mention of them.  
  
 It was time to go, so Howland cleared his throat. “Perhaps the Prince and the Lady Ashara and her brother should exit first, then our group?”  
  
 “Indeed,” the prince replied. Sending one last look toward his intended, he bowed his head to her, and beckoned to his guard to follow. The Lady Ashara having already said her goodbyes to Ned, took her brothers arm and the three of them disappeared into the trees.  
  
  It was a few moments before anyone spoke, it was Ned who broke the silence in the end. "What happens next?" he asked no one in particular. Howland did not want to speak for Lyanna or Ned, but he knew that the next phase came on the morrow, and following that the Gods Eye. Thankfully, it was Lyanna who responded.   
  
  Approaching her brothers, and himself, she gestured to Brandon first. "I want to get to know him. I know that my mark means that eventually he will be my husband, once it is merged he will be my husband in the eyes of the Gods, same as with Ned and Ashara. So, I would appreciate some support in this. I won't spend what little time I have to know him under your ever present scrutiny. Have faith in me, and try to have some trust in him. And in return, I promise not to sneak off and I promise to communicate everything to you. I even suspect that Ashara and Ned will be happy to chaperone." She turned to Ned then, eyes expectant.   
  
  "Aye, I suspect Ashara and Lyanna will be spending a good amount of time together in the coming days. As I have no intention to miss a moment with her, Lyanna should be well in hand, big brother." Ned responded.   
  
  "Then it is settled." Lyanna seemed pleased with the situation.   
  
  "I think it is safe for us to depart now." Benjen called to them.   
  
  Howland stood from his spot beneath the weirwood tree, "I should be happy to escort the Lady and Benjen back to their camp if you both have things to do." Brandon and Ned both accepted his offer and promised to see them before heading to the feast. All and all, this had gone well. There was much more to discuss, especially between himself and the Prince, but this was a start.   
  
  Once Brandon and Ned were out of earshot, Howland pulled back slightly on Lyanna's arm. "Are you refusing the bond because you are nervous, or is it something else?" He wanted to know the real reason for her refusal.   
  
  "I was nervous at first, I admit. But nay, I am not nervous now. That all fled out of me the moment he acknowledged my right to choose. The truth is, I didn't do it, because I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of an easy victory. He is a prince, and I am sure he is used to people giving him everything his heart could possibly desire. And it just so happens that his heart desires to complete the bond, _with me."_ The look in her eyes was that of a predator eyeing its prey. "Its within my power to deny a prince, so I did. Of course I understand my path, I am thrilled to be deemed worthy by the Gods to serve, I daresay I won't mind him either. But I should like to see him work for it, after all, this mark takes out the need to court me. It's literally a guarantee from the Gods that he doesn't have to work for it. Damn that I say. The winter can be as cruel as it can be gentle, and so too shall I." She was pleased with herself, and who was he to deny her these small victories.  
  
 "Just don't be too cruel, Lyanna. He will torture himself to keep this promise to you and make no mistake, that is what denying the bond will become." She needed to understand that while it is meant to fulfill a purpose, denying it can also carry a punishment. Apparently his words struck home because she visibly paled before she nodded once to confirm she understood. He wasn't particularly worried, his moment was approaching, it all came down to the joust, Howland knew. But first the feast, the rest would fall in place soon enough.


	17. A Queen of Winter and her Worthy Consort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna and Rhaegar are still processing everything they have learned. Elia and Rhaegar have a heart to heart about their children, and what happens in the future. Robert grows suspicious. Ned tries to bond with his best-friend, only to end up confronting him about his behavior. Later, Rhaegar will have a few tense moments, one with his father, and the other with Cersei. The gloves come off in two separate showdowns that have been in need of happening, the first Ned/Robb in "The Pack Sticks Together", and Cersei/Rhaegar in which "The Lion is Declawed", Howland sheds some light on courting customs forgotten in the North, and Rhaegar will play Lyanna another song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended to jump straight into the epic second day of Jousting, but I decided that for continuity's sake, this chapter should be its own. At just under 20k words, I didn't want to make this chapter a book because the second part is so important, I just didn't want my readers struggling to make it to the end.  
> I will have the second part posted soon. Thank you for your patience while I wrote this one.

**The She-wolf**

* * *

  
  On her way back to her tent, she thought a lot about everything that had been said, not only by Howland, but by her brothers, and by Rhaegar. And that thing about destiny… _who was she to deny the Gods? Hadn’t she asked the Gods to show her the path they intended for her? To give her pack the strength to get through whatever was to come? Well, be careful what you ask for Lyanna_. She thought smugly.

  When she got to her tent, she called for a bath and asked for a handmaid to stay to help her dress. She promised cruelty, and she would deliver. She would show him that she accepted her destiny even if she had not accepted the bond…, _yet_.

  She would not be at the feast the following night, because she would be feigning sickness to enter into the lists. The success of this plan all came down to her behavior at the feast tonight, so she decided to humor her brothers and dress up, and smile, and play her part. And perhaps socialize with Ashara for a time before claiming she felt unwell. Then she would have one of her brothers escort her back to her tent for the night, knowing that they would most likely elect Benjen. Then once Howland showed up, they would know the coast was clear, and they would go on their scavenger hunt. 

  Once she was done with her bath, she called for her handmaid to help her dress. She was not one to fuss over dresses, however there were a few dresses that she had packed that she was particularly proud of. One of them, the one she chose for tonight, she’d seen herself wearing in a dream, and she begged her father for the coin to purchase the material from White Harbor. Myrish lace that had been dyed the palest silver and darkened into a deep silver grey,  the detailing looked like snowflakes. And the silk she had purchased was similar, going from silver to cobalt blue to deep indigo. She had told her seamstress how she envisioned the dress, and she had not been disappointed. She felt like a queen the moment she saw her reflection in the polished mirror she brought with her.  
  
  She would wear her hair half up, in a waterfall braid to allow her eyes to take center stage, the rest she would leave down in its natural state. Her curls were not shy, but her hair was thick, and they would fall with ease down her back to gather below her waist. Her mothers necklace, the one of the direwolf would be perfect to match the belt she would use this evening. When she entered the hall, there would be no doubt of the message she was sending to Rhaegar.  
  
  Ned, Ben, Bran and Howland showed up just as she was finishing, to escort her to the feast, And the look on their faces made her question if she had made the right decision. She hated being the center of attention, she hated it even more so when her brothers all fussed over her.  
  
 “I should change, this is too much.” she turned to go back into her tent.  
  
 “Lya stop, you look beautiful.” it was Benjen. He always complimented her, but she suspected it was more to do with the fact that he didn't want to wait on her to change again.  
  
 “Whatever Ben, you always say that, I can tell already that this dress will be a problem.”  
  
“He’s right Lyanna, the dress is fine. It’s just, well, you look like a _real_ Lady for once. That's all. You're not going to make this easy for us are you?” It was Brandon.  
  
 “What is that supposed to mean?” she turned to scowl at her oldest brother. I haven’t done anything.”

_Why does everything have to be on me?_

  He sighed, clearly exasperated with this conversation already. “Lyanna, our job is to make sure Robert stays away from you, whereas before it was to encourage the two of you. We can't very well do that anymore, and now you want to go to the feast looking like the summer snow in a dusky sky?" He was exaggerating, she was tempted to roll her eyes. "Lyanna, I don't know how you see yourself, but trust me Robert will be a problem.”  
  
 “Oh,” the truth was, she hadn’t really considered his reaction to this. Her father told Brandon that the prince had the full support of their house, and she supposed that extended to the canceled betrothal, or the prospective betrothal. “Why can't you just make him understand that our father has firmly stated he will not consider it until I am sixteen, and no matter what assurances he thinks he has had from maester Walys, our father has made no such assurances to the success of this endeavor?”  
  
  Something she said must have perked Brandon’s attention because he looked at her with a stunned expression, and so did Ned. “What does maester Walys have to do with this?”  
  
  She was confused, “Didn't you know, apparently maester Walys has all but assured Robert that the betrothal was official. At least that is what he told me last evening when we were dancing.”  

  It would seem that her brother had not known, “So that is what father meant about the Ravens.” It clicked then for Lya too, but she didn’t have time to pick it apart because Brandon wasn’t done yet. “Lya, fear not about Robert, we will keep him occupied tonight and for however long we must. Just go and enjoy yourself and do not think on him, or the mark, or the prince if you can help it.” He gave her a warm smile.

  She rolled her eyes, _of course they would think I’m nervous about Robert, or the mark, or the prince, what else would bother her?_ “I’m not concerned with any of those things to be honest Bran, the truth is, it’s the three of you who are making me second guess this! Stop gawking  at me already.” She huffed.

  It was Ned who broke out in laughter first. And after him, none could contain their mirth. She rolled her eyes again at her stupid brothers. “Can we just go now? Before I decide to dine with Winter rather than you animals!” She knew that this would only continue if she didn't put a stop to it, so she gathered her cloak and she swept from the tent alone. No doubt they would follow soon enough.  And so they did, Brandon taking her arm as he caught up.

  They walked in silence to the castle, only stopping once inside to give her cloak over to Ben, and then the five of them were ushered into the Great Hall Lyanna on Brandon’s arm, followed by Ned, then Ben, and then Howland.

 

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

  Rhaegar was still trying to process everything he had learned in the Godswood. Never in a lifetime had he thought he would be talking with a stranger about his mark, even more, he never would have thought that same stranger to be his _guide?_    
  
  _What was that supposed to mean anyway?_  
  
There were a few things that kept replaying over and over in his mind. The first being Lyanna, her mark, and the fact that she is his opposite in almost everything. And in spite of all that, all he wanted to do is go back to where he knew she was, because he had never felt so close to belonging in his entire life the way he had while standing not one foot away from her. The second thing was the revelation about Summerhall. He knew that no matter what happened here, he would need to write to his uncle at the wall to talk this through with him. With any luck he could help me figure out her name. The third thing, if he understood what was said between them, there is still a living dragon in the world, and they share a connection. But this confused him more than it excited him. If there is a living dragon in the world, how in the seven hells has she managed to stay hidden for so long? And why in the world does everyone believe them to be gone? The last thing, and right now, it’s the most important as far as he was concerned was the part about the female line being responsible for the loss of the connection to the dragons, and how that has anything to do with his lady mothers ability to birth living babes.  
  
  He was roused from his thoughts by Arthur, “I thought that you said you wanted to get it over with,” Rhaegar could sense the sarcasm coming from a mile away. “How does promising to not seal the bond against her will help you to _not_ be as distracted in front of your father, Your Grace.” Rhaegar rolled his eyes.  
  
  “I told you before Arthur, I have known my whole life what destiny required of me, I won't force her into this if she doesn't want it, no matter how badly I desire to.” He sighed. “I don't think I have to force her anyway.” He grinned to himself.  
  
  Arthur arched an eyebrow. “Please enlighten me, how do you plan to accomplish this task then? The girl made it clear that she isn't ready to accept you yet.”  
  
  He shrugged, “It's quite simple actually, I have to win her.” He didn't have time to explain it all to his best friend. He needed to get back to his tent to prepare for the feast. He would need to go to his father after the fact to escort him to the Hall. He had spent enough time to himself today and he was sure that this wasn’t lost on his father.  “I should be ready to leave here in one hour, I’d like to have a conversation with you and Oswell before we depart.”

  “It will be as you say, Your Grace.” Bowing his head, he turned and went about his task. Turning back toward his pavilion he went about his own business, knowing that the next hour would pass quickly, and so it did.

  Rhaegar was just finishing with some last minute business when Arthur and Oswell arrived, “Ah, I'm glad you are both here. I wanted to discuss the situation with Lyanna.” He wanted to make sure that she had someone watching her at all times. He had known that it would be difficult with Elia needing a guard, but he figured that Oberyn could help fill in for Oswell tonight.

  He would make sure to mention it to her before going to his father.

  In truth, he hadn’t really thought about how he would protect Lyanna now that he knew she possessed the other half of his link. And completing it wouldn't help in this regard, but the last thing he wanted was to take a chance with her safety.

  “Forgive me, Your Grace, but I'm confused again,” it was Arthur, of course it was Arthur, Rhaegar sighed.

  “What situation with Lyanna? I was under the impression that you were going to give her time?” Rhaegar had clearly lost him somewhere along the line. 

  “Forgive me, I was not referring to the mark, per se. I was referring to her safety, specifically this evening.” The looks on their faces went from confusion to comprehension within a moment.

   _Good, they understand._  

  “Weren't you just saying yesterday, ‘ _The lady Lyanna doesn't need rescuing, she needs freedom’,”_ this time it was Oswell to mock him. Rhaegar just rolled his eyes at the pair of them.

  “Very funny, you should know that I am completely serious about this, and I expect you both to be as well.” This did the trick because they straightened up immediately. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I don't believe that we have to worry about squires tonight. I am more concerned with her escort from the Hall, should her brothers be too drunk to bring her back safely. I also want to make sure that Robert has absolutely no opportunity to get her alone in a corner or on the dance floor.”

  “And does the Lady Lyanna know this?” This time it was Arthur.

  “A good question, and the answer is no. However I doubt that it should be a problem. Just make sure she is happy, and enjoying herself, and do not step in unless you see no other solution. That should keep you both safe from her ire.” The thought of either of them falling victim to her wrath brought a smile to his lips. He had only seen her lash out the once, but what a sight to behold she had been, he would love to see how his own knights fared against her.

  “If you have no questions, come then.”

* * *

   After stopping in to speak with Elia, Rhaegar made his way to his father's chambers within the castle. Outside, Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan were stationed at his door. Upon seeing him, both bowed their head in acknowledgement, before Ser Gerold knocked to announce that he was outside.

  After a moment, the King gave his permission for him to enter. Upon first glance, nothing seemed amiss, and perhaps that was the issue entirely. He would have been more prepared for his father's outbursts than to find him calm and lucid. 

 “What has kept you so long boy?” the king inquired.  
  
  Rhaegar was nervous. “Forgive me, My King, I thought to train with Arthur after the games were called for the day. Have I missed something important?”  
  
  “You were with that whore weren't you? Don't lie to me boy.”  
  
_What whore would he be referring to now?_  
  
  “I'm sorry father, but I have not been with anyone aside from Ser Arthur this evening. We were training in the Godswood for about an hour.” None of this mattered to the king, and Rhaegar knew it. Sometimes he wondered if the King did this just to see him dance about.  
  
  The King dismissed this as if he had said nothing of importance, which if Rhaegar thought about it, he supposed that assessment would be true. “Never mind all that, just don't put a bastard in that whore, I won't have her father coming and making more demands of me.”  
  
   _Her father? What in the world is he going on about?_  
  
   His confusion must have been written across his face, because in a rare act of generosity the King answered his silent question. “That slut of Tywin’s. I saw her eyeing you today, and don't think I didn't notice how distracted you were by the whore.” he sneered.  
  
_Ah, he could use this misunderstanding to his advantage, even though he would hate it all the same._  
  
  “Forgive me father, it is as you say, the Lady Cersei is singularly focused. I swear to you, I have no interest in her. The King was most generous when he chose my lady wife.” Rhaegar found it best to flatter the King rather than argue against his assessments. He was correct in that the Lady Cersei had been eyeing him all day, there was hardly a time when she wasn’t. Nevertheless, there had always been something off-putting about the girl. She reminded him of someone, and he couldn't put his finger on it, but the idea of her in bed beside him made him ill.

 _Change the subject. . ._  
  
“The games ended quickly after you departed, Your Grace, I suspect they should be more entertaining on the morrow however…” Small talk was not his forte, and thank the gods it was not his father's either.  
  
  “Yes, yes. Another day for the sheep to come together and plot against us. Don't be so naive boy, they love us not. I tell you this often and yet you do not listen. We are not here to make friends, boy! We are here to show them what happens if they cross the dragon. They came to see if we are weak, but the blood of the dragon is strong! Strong! Strong! Fire cleanses Beast and Man and Earth. They shall all see what happens when you cross the dragon!”  
  
  _This escalated quickly…_  
  
 “Of course, Your Grace, the blood of the dragon is indeed strong. Perhaps you would like to go to the Great Hall for the feast then? They can not plot behind our backs if you are there to bear witness to their follies.” The words taste bitter  on his tongue, but they were the words his father needed to hear. He was ashamed of the way he was about to use his father's condition to his advantage. But the truth was, most of these lords have yet to see the full extent of his father's fall into madness, and if they hadn’t seen it first hand, they would never understand why he needed to be removed from the throne.

* * *

  He had been sitting at the high table when she entered the hall on the arms of her brothers Brandon and Eddard. Elia and he were speaking with Oberyn of Rhaenys when he caught sight of her.  _What in the Seven hells was she playing at?_

  One moment he was laughing, and in the next, his throat had closed up and he found he was having difficulty drawing breath. She was a vision straight out of a fairytale. One he had constructed many times alone in his bed. He had never seen her face, but he knew that gown.

  It was a long silk gown with flowing skirts, the colors fading into one another. Silver at the bodice, cobalt blue like frost, from the hip to mid thigh and deep indigo around the bottom, it was a perfect union of what was him and what was her. The top was Myrish lace, the detailing like snowflakes, hugging her chest, but flowing down her back in a waterfall. The sleeves were embellished by pearl buttons at the wrist that extended to her elbows, it was the same at her back. Where the ties of her bodice were, more pearls could be seen. The lace too, had been dyed, the lightest shade of silver. It appeared to be almost sheer, but it became more visible as it traveled down her bodice darkening to a deep silver grey that contrasted the light silver silks beneath. Around her waist she wore a silver belt. It appeared to be running direwolves. _Bold choice…_ Her hair was pulled back away from her face. Accentuating her long neck and pale skin. The silver chain she wore only complimented her more. Her eyes were bright, she had a look of mischief in them.

  _There will never be a dull moment with you, will there?_ The thought made Rhaegar smile. 

  “She’s stunning.” Elia leaned in to whisper to him. He’d been so captivated by her, he hardly remembered to nod in acknowledgement. “Rhaegar?”

  “Hmm? Did you say something Elia?” She clucked her tongue at him.

  “Get your head in the game Rhaegar, are you so singularly focused that you are forgetting your surroundings?” That got his attention. Quickly he scanned the room. All seemed to be fine. His father was preoccupied with his sycophants, Lyanna was dancing with her brother, Rhaegar grit his teeth together. He found himself envious of the boy.

  Rather than falling into his arms, she had pulled away from him, as if he were contagious. Even though he understood her reluctance, he couldn’t deny that it stung. Especially after watching her dance with Robert the previous evening.

  Rationally, he understood that her reaction had nothing to do with him personally, but the irrational part of him despaired at the thought of her being repulsed by him. The link only meant that they were matched by the Gods, it wasn’t a guarantee that they would find the other appeasing.

  His eyes settled on a movement across the Hall, Robert had been eying Lyanna since she entered the room. So far, his assigned companions seemed to be having success keeping him distracted, though for how long, Rhaegar couldn’t say. He stood from his seat and moved toward Arthur and Oswell, excusing himself before he stepped away.

  “Arthur, would you meet Brandon once the song ends to ask Lyanna for the next dance? Oswell, you will follow Arthur if Robert still hasn’t lost focus."

  “I’d appreciate it if you two could find a way to fill her dance card with people who do not want to take advantage of her on the dance floor.” He had a feeling that Lyanna wouldn’t appreciate all the fuss he was making, but something about Robert touching Lyanna set his teeth on edge.

  _She may not be his yet, but she would be, and woe be to Robert the day he tries to get between them._

 

* * *

**The Stag Lord**

* * *

 

  He had been deep in his cups by the time Lyanna had entered the hall escorted by her brothers, and Robert was ashamed to admit that he had forgotten that she was in attendance. Though, now that he was looking upon her fair face, he couldn't for the life of him figure out how he had ended up with these four idiots beside him rather than the beauty who soon would be his.  
  
  He glanced around the hall, there was hardly a person who didn't have their eyes on his Lyanna. Well, she wasn’t his, not yet. But that was simply a formality. She would be his, and he was glad of it. Judging by the expressions on the faces in the hall, every man wanted a moment of her time.

_Too bad, she is mine…_

He thought to approach her on a few occasions, but every time he had made to move someone else had beaten him to her side. Of course, in his opinion he would be well within his rights to step in between her and whomever was dancing with her, aside from one issue. The first partner she had was her brother Brandon, followed by Ser Arthur Dayne, which would have been fine, the idiot swore off women for the chance to wipe the king's ass, but then Ser Oswell was there before the song had ended, and Lyanna had been swept back up in another dance before he had even the chance to make his intentions known.  
  
_Something about this felt off._  
  
  He was about to go in search of Ned when Richard Lonmouth came over with a horn of ale for him, and some serving wench on his arm. “Robert, meet Myra.” The lad wore a grin from ear to ear, and Robert couldn't blame him. The woman was curvy in all the right places, a man could lose himself in between her tits alone.  
  
  “Myra, you say? Have we met before, you seem familiar to me…” His words trailed off as his eyes roamed over her body.  
  
 “Can't say that we ‘ave Milord, I think I would remember.” She reached for his hand and pulled him toward a long bench.  
  
_Thank the gods for women like Myra…_

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

   So far the evening had been a success, she hadn’t had to worry about Robert at all, he was firmly placed into the care of her brother Brandon’s squire Ethan, and Jon Arryn’s nephew Elbert, who both had an easy way about them. He was also joined by who Lyanna could only assume were the friends Rhaegar had mentioned. One of them wore skulls and kisses on his surcoat the other the burning yellow tower of House Grafton of Gulltown. Lyanna could see the merit in choosing such allies. The first person to ask her to dance that evening surprisingly was Brandon, who typically would be with Robert and Elbert, drinking or shamelessly flirting with some unwitting girl or another. But she was happy to dance with her brother, however the dancing did not end with Brandon.

  The next person to ask her to dance was Arthur Dayne, she looked around the room, “What is this about?” she asked the Sword of the Morning suspiciously.

  He raised an eyebrow to her question. “I'm sorry, I’m not sure I understand what you are asking, My Lady.” he mocked her. 

  She scowled, “You know, one day I might be your queen, would it not be better if we didn’t start off by playing games with one another?”  
  
_Two could play at this . . ._  
  
“From what I understand, your chances of becoming queen are more of a certainty at this point, wouldn't you say? And should I not be trying to get to know you since it is all but an inevitability?” he smirked at her.  
  
_What is it with the men in my life lately?_  
  
 “I can think of better ways for you and I to get to know one another that do not involve this type of dancing” she replied before she realized how it must have sounded.  
  
 To his credit he did not take the bait, instead his brow shot up questioningly a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Please, do elaborate. . . I'm sure this will be good.”  
  
 “I didn’t mean—,” her cheeks were on fire. “What I mean is, you are the Sword of the Morning, I should think a lesson from you would be a great way for us to become better acquainted, that's all.” the words were hurried.  
  
 To his credit he did not at all seem surprised. “Ah, I think I heard a rumor about a girl with a sword running about the grounds,” she knew he was teasing her.  
  
  _Oh Gods, who else had seen her?_  
  
 “You don't understand, they were attacking my father’s Bannerman, and there was no time to get help. I did not see anyone else around. And he is a part of my pack, it was my duty to stand up for him.” she was rambling and she knew it.  
  
 “Fear not, My Lady, your secret is safe with me. If you would like to train, I have no issue helping in that regard, though perhaps it is best that we wait on that until after your secret is not so secret?” He lowered his voice at the last part.  
  
 She nodded, she had not expected him to be so willing, “Surely, you are joking. It can't be that easy..?”  
  
 “I promise you, I am sincere. I don't mind at all training with you, from what I saw, your form is good, and your aim is true. You need refinement, and years of practice before you are able to be a proper menace, but you are not without natural talent.” he paused. “Don't look so shocked, in Dorne women and men alike are known to wield a weapon. We do not look down upon women who would prefer to fight their battles on the field rather than in the birthing bed. Nymeria put an end to all of that when she conquered Dorne.”  
  
 Lyanna wasn’t sure why that hadn’t occurred to her before. Perhaps if she had to run away she could go to Dorne rather than beyond the Wall… The idea was a pleasing one. Ser Arthur pulled her from her thoughts again with his next comment.  
  
 “So, were you trying to make a statement tonight?” he gestured with his eyes to her dress.  
  
 She gave a wolfish grin. “That obvious? Good.”  
  
 “Indeed, though I'm not sure what you were hoping to accomplish. It's dangerous for the prince to be so distracted. It's even more dangerous for him to be distracted by you while his father is present. Trust me, you do not want the King’s attention focused on you.” This was a warning.  
  
But, she couldn't help herself, the idea that she affected the Prince excited her, so she asked. “And is the prince distracted?” she knew that Ser Arthur had been serious.  
  
 “Terribly so, why do you think I am here? As soon as your brother released your hand, he noticed Robert trying to make his way in your direction.” he was speaking as low as possible, without making a scene.  
  
 They were spinning around the floor before her eyes fell upon Robert standing against the wall, eyes fixed on her and the Sword of The Morning. He was still in the company of his four companions from earlier in the evening, but his attention was fixed solely on her. “I don't know what Ned was thinking when he agreed to deliver his proposal to my father.” she confessed.  
  
 To his credit, the Sword of the Morning just shrugged. “I can't pretend to understand what motivates some people. But in his defense, can you blame the young lord for his infatuation? You may have been hidden away up North for the duration of your life, but it's easy enough to understand why. Every man in this hall, has had his attention fixed on you at some point this evening.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “The song is about to end, so try not to be annoyed by Oswell, he approaches next.” She was about to protest when the song ended, and she turned to see the smiling face of another kingsguard. This one tall and muscular, with shockingly bright auburn hair, much the color of the Lady Catelyn’s.  
  
“Ser Oswell I presume?” She wanted to be annoyed, but another look across the room toward where Robert stood, confirmed that this was indeed going to be the only way to avoid him.  
  
“At your service, My Lady.” he replied. “It has been requested by our prince that we keep your good company this evening.”  
  
_Oh great, jokes all around._  
  
 “Fine, but if I must be forced to play this charade, I insist you call me Lyanna. And also, this is the last dance for me tonight. After this is over, do you think you could help me devise a way to get out of here, and possibly back to my tent?”  
  
 “You must be kidding? Do you not know who’s home you are in? If anyone can get you out of here and into the comfort and safety of your tent, it is I.” he confessed. “Should you like my brothers to make a scene, or would you prefer a quiet exit?” She could not help but notice the hint of mischief in his eyes, and somehow she knew she and Ser Oswell would become great friends.  
  
 “I will leave that up to your discretion, but if I have to stay and pretend here any longer, I may go mad.” she confessed.  
  
 He smiled wickedly at her. “Worry not, I have a plan. Follow my lead.” And they began dancing their way across the floor in the direction of Ashara.  
  
 When they got closer, Oswell called her over. “My Lady Ashara,” he paused. “The Lady Lyanna, is not feeling well, and has asked to be escorted back to her tent, would you please inform her brothers and the Prince that we will be heading that way once this song has finished?” The Lady Ashara looked to her then, and Lyanna almost saw a look of disappointment on her face, before it was gone again.  
  
 “It would be my pleasure to assist, only I shall escort her back to her tent with you. It would not be proper for you to escort her alone. Your duty is to the royal family. If you were to go alone, it could raise some unwanted attention. If I were to escort her, and you were to escort me however, that would not be so unseemly. It's bad enough, the only ones to dance with the lady tonight were her brother Brandon, and two of the five Kingsguard who are here with the royal family.” Her argument was valid, even Lyanna could not argue with her reasoning.  
  
 “Perhaps, I could stay for one more dance. Possibly allow for someone not of the kingsguard or my family to dance with me?” It was just a thought, though Oswell and Ashara looked apprehensive. “I'm sure Howland wouldn't mind.” She hadn’t even asked him but if she did, she was sure he would accept.  
  
 Oswell was just about to object, as the song was coming to a close. But just before he could open his mouth to speak Ashara came back to them with a young man on her arm. He had Silver hair with a streak of black in the front. She remembered him immediately from earlier in the day.  
  
 “Ser Gerold?” Lyanna asked. He didn't seem like a particularly pleasant person, but perhaps that was just his way.  
  
 “No Ser, just Lord Gerold, I'm still a squire, for now. I was curious to know if the Lady would honor me with a dance as recompense for cheating earlier in the race?” She knew he was teasing her.  
  
_Interesting considering how miserable he looks_. 

 _He could be considered handsome, but for the cruel look on his face._  
  
 “A dance is the least I could do to repay you for your poor skill in the race this morning.” She teased back. Before she took his hand, she shot a look over to Ser Oswell and smiled, and a silent thank you to the Lady Ashara before she moved to the center of the floor. Allowing for Oswell and Ashara to make preparations for her to leave once the song was finished.

 

* * *

  **The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

  Rhaegar watched as first, Ser Arthur and then Ser Oswell shared a dance with Lyanna. He couldn’t deny the envy he felt, knowing that they had been permitted to be so close, while he was banished so far from her.

 He decided, he needed a distraction.

 Turning to Elia, who seemed to be in high spirits, he decided to keep up their charade. He flashed her a rare smile, “Princess, would you honor me with a dance?”

 To his surprise, she smiled back to him and placed her hand in the one he offered her. “It would be a pleasure, My Prince.”

 Standing, they both turned to the king and bowed. It would not do to have him lash out over such a small indiscretion, no matter how much it would help his cause, something like this could hurt it too. If the realm were to witness the prince neglect proper protocol in front of their leal subjects, especially in regards to their sovereign, it could set a precedent that would be difficult to correct. The king could not allow such a breach in protocol to go unpunished. So, Rhaegar made sure to never forget his courtesy.

 After the King waved them off, he turned to the dance floor and led Elia over to a place not far from where Oswell and Lyanna were dancing. Taking her arm and turning toward her they quickly fell in with the others who were also dancing.

 “This pregnancy becomes you.” It was true. Elia had never shone so brightly when she carried Rhaenys. He thought perhaps that it might have something to do with the fact that this child won’t be born with a demand on its destiny. Because this time, the babe is the product of Elia and Arthur’s joined love. The thought made Rhaegar smile.

 “Thank you, Your Grace, I must admit, this one feels different, _right,_ somehow.” Her blush in contrast to her bronze skin was lovely. Elia truly was a lovely woman, he’d had no complaints of her in truth. Only that her heart was never his, and he had never connected with her in such a way that would allow him to love her as a man should love his woman. He had always felt as if he was betraying his best friend by laying with her. So he avoided it all together. Save the time that they conceived Rhaenys and the night they were wed.

 “I think you should smile more often. It’s a very good look on you. May I ask what brought about this change?” She seemed sincere enough, so he thought about it.

 “Truthfully, I don’t even realize I’m doing it, so I can’t honestly say. But, it could have something to do with the fact that I’ve been too distracted today that I haven’t had the chance to get lost in my own thoughts.” He knew that there was truth in his words. “But,” his gaze drifted back to Lyanna, “if you must know, she’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, anyone I’ve ever met before. Like some uncharted land.” He chuckled. There was also truth to be found in those words. Hers would be the only bloodline of the major houses in the Seven Kingdoms that House Targaryen hasn’t married into.

_Just like in the scroll…_

“Well, whatever she is, I daresay she’ll be good for you.” Elia had clearly thought about this. “What do you think Rhaenys will say about all of this?” He wasn’t surprised that she’d brought this up, actually they had hardly a moment to talk since they had arrived the previous day.

 He shrugged, “I don’t honestly know, but I’m not even sure when I’ll be able to bring her to Dragonstone, or King's Landing for that matter, definitely not until this situation with my father is resolved.” He made sure to lower his voice, and pulled her in closer so that she could hear him.

 “I suppose Rhaenys reaction to all of this, will come down to you,” he looked into her eyes as he spoke. In truth, he had thought about this a lot. Ever since Lyanna brought up Elia and Rhaenys earlier, “It would also depend on me, but mostly you. I say this because you are her mother. You get to decide on the relationship you will allow them to have. Because Rhaenys will likely follow your lead. Whether you decide that we present _her_ as another mother, or as my wife, and the future Queen.” He took a breath before forging on. “I would hope, however, that you would not wish to promote that type of separation between Rhaenys and any potential siblings she may have as a result of my marriage to _Her._ ” He hoped that Elia understood what he was trying to say. “I do not believe that having more parents to love our current and future children is such a bad thing. Just as I would hope you would not see my children by _Her,_ any different than you see Rhaenys and even this little one,” he placed his palm on the swell of her stomach, just where she was starting to show.

  Something he said must have affected her, because her eyes began to water, but she continued to smile kindly at him all the same. “It gladdens me to hear those words from your mouth, because all you’ve said is what I desire for my children. I do not want them to ever feel that they should have to choose between one parent or another, or that they are being split between two families.” She stopped a moment, and the look on her face suggested that she was working through something difficult that she wanted to say, so he prodded.

 “Elia, you can tell me anything. I promise to always keep your council, and give mine in return.” She placed her palm on his cheek. To the rest of the Hall, they appeared to be a married couple who were madly in love. He smiled thinking about how angry Cersei must be watching this display of affection.

 “Listen to me Rhaegar, even though everything seems to be fine right now, is no guarantee that it will always remain so,” Rhaegar had no idea what she was talking about, and was about to tell her as much when she placed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Listen.”

It was a command. He knew better than to disobey, so instead he nodded.

 “Good.” She took a deep breath. “You know what I am referring to, even if you do not wish to admit it. But I need to say this now, do you understand?” She waited, so he nodded once again. “We do not know how I will fare in the child bed this time around.” His eyes went wide, but she would not give him a chance to speak now that she had already started. “I do not intend to leave my babes Rhaegar, but you and I both know that stronger women have fared worse than I. And it did not go easy on me the last time.” The look in her eyes was one of determination, “I need you to promise me that you will look after both of them. Keep them together should something happen to me."  _Claim this babe as your own until Arthur can claim our babe freely. Can you promise me this?— w_ ent unsaid.

 She never had to ask him. He would have done this anyway. “I can promise this, and I do so swear it. Our children will grow up together, with love, and support from all of their parents.”

 She smiled again before nodding to him. “Good. I should like to get to know this lady of yours. Ash said she accepted our invitation to sit with us in the coming days. Perhaps she can come back to Dragonstone as a “ _lady in waiting”_ once the tourney is over, don’t you think that a good enough excuse to have her here in the south?”

 Honestly, he hadn’t even considered this to be an option. The idea held merit, but Rhaegar had intended to seal their bond as soon as possible, which meant that he had no choice but to go North, before bringing her back South.

 “It’s a good suggestion, I think we will know more in the coming days. Perhaps we may need to do as you suggest.” Just then, Oswell approached.

Rhaegar hadn’t realized that the song had ended “Your Grace,” Oswell bowed his head as he came to stand beside him. “Lord Gerold is dancing with the lady now,” he whispered conspiratorially. Rhaegar chanced a glare in the boys direction, and grit his teeth. He would accept it, but he did not like it. The boy was young to be sure, no more than one-and-ten name days, but even at his age, his reputation precedes him.

 “Have no worries, My Prince, it is just one dance, and 'twas necessary. Your cousin has yet to relent, which is why I’ve come. I will be escorting both the ladies Lyanna and Ashara back to the Northern camp, once this dance is done. The lady claims she feels unwell.”

 He didn’t miss the look of disappointment that crossed Elia’s features. “I do hope it won’t carry over to the morrow.” Elia was genuinely concerned. Rhaegar knew it was not in her nature to take pleasure in the suffering of another. Contrary to what most believe…

 “I am sure she will be fine, the dance is a mere distraction, because she’s only danced with her brother and two members of the Royal guard. We thought it best not to draw attention to ourselves or the prince by escorting her back before she had danced with someone who is not directly affiliated with you. That is where Little Gerold fits into the picture."

 Rhaegar agreed with this logic. “Very well, make sure she reaches her tent unharmed, and do not waste time on your return. With any luck, the king will retire soon, and then I may be permitted to leave as well.” Oswell nodded his understanding, and then made his way back in the direction he had come from, while Rhaegar led Elia back to their seats.

 Settling in, he scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits. Even his father seemed to be taking the event in stride.

 His gaze continued to scan the crowd until it fell upon Robert. Making his way toward the floor where Lyanna and Gerold were still dancing. He was determined not to let the fact that she was enjoying herself, distract him.

_What the fuck is so funny?_

He gestured for Arthur to come closer. “I do believe, my cousin intends to—,” his voice trailed off as he looked up to see Lyanna’s brother Ned speaking with his foster brother. He turned his attention back to Arthur, “Keep an eye on him, and try to get ears close enough to hear that conversation.” He paused before adding,” That’s the brother who presented Robert's offer to Lyanna’s father for her hand. I’d like to know how much influence Robert has over the boy.” He said, but apparently not low enough, because his father had decided to take interest in their conversation suddenly.

 “Finally, you start using your head! That’s my boy! I heard about our cousin’s interest in the wolf bitch, but I was certain that Varys told me her father was yet to give a reply. Am I to understand that the match was accepted without the approval of the crown?” Rhaegar could see the fire burning in his father's eyes.

 Quickly he sought to calm him. But his father had just gotten started. “I saw that slut enter the room, she’s a pretty one, healthy, unlike that weak whore beside you.” Rhaegar wished he could save Elia from his father's insults. He knew it was even harder for Arthur. “I would not have thought that the old _mutt_ would have such a treasure hidden up there in that frozen wasteland.” Rhaegar was sure he wouldn’t like the direction this was heading in, so quickly he spoke up.

 “Father,”

 “Silence! I am your king, show your respect when you address me, boy! Do not forget your place!” The king shrieked.

 “Forgive me, My King, I only meant to tell you what I already know, if it please Your Grace.”

The king nodded his approval. “Very well then, tell me what you know.”

 Taking a deep breath, he wove a pretty web, taking care not to say anything that could cause any harm to Lyanna's _pack_. “Lord Rickard received an offer last year from our cousin Robert, who had been fostered in the Eyrie beside the Lady Lyanna’s brother,” he gestured toward Ned, “Lord Rickard's second son, Eddard. It was confirmed to me by the Lady Ashara that the Lord of Winterfell has _in-fact_  placed the match on an indefinite hold. Apparently there are concerns as to our cousins character, and the young Ladies suitability for such a match.”

 This seemed to please the king. “Good! I will forbid it. They think that I do not see, but I do. I won’t let the Stormlands, the Riverlands, the North and the Vale all unite against us. Perhaps I’ll call for her to come to court. That should bring those traitors to heal. Perhaps I’ll call for all of their heirs and daughters to come to court.”

 He was getting an uneasy feeling in his gut. He looked over to where Robert stood talking with Lyanna’s brother. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills the moment they met. On one hand it would keep Robert far from Lyanna, and having royal hostages could prove beneficial to his cause, but on the other hand, the thought of innocents, of Lyanna being his father's captive in the Red Keep sent cold chills down his spine. He turned back to his father.

 “My King, the Princess and I were just discussing a way to keep an eye on things, and she was saying that she was in need of a new Lady to add into her service. Elia suggested that maybe His Grace could summon the Stark girl to serve, at least until such a time as we have a better idea of what is going on in the North. This should also help us keep Robert in hand as well.”

 _Please work, please work, please work…_ he knew that Lyanna would probably hate this plan, but it was better than the alternative. Sometimes, one must give a little in order to do good.

 “Very well, I agree. You will deliver my royal command on the morrow.” His father smiled  to himself, as if he had just delivered a huge blow to his foes. But he wasn’t done playing to his father's vanities.

 “I was thinking, Your Grace, now that spring has come, I could ride north to visit Uncle Aemon, and maybe while I’m there, I could pay a visit to the Warden of the North to impress upon him how detrimental the continued loyalty to the crown is in regards to the lives of himself and his children, and his precious legacy. Maybe remind him what happened the last time a  lesser House rose up against us and _woke the dragon._ ” Rhaegar was disgusted by his own words, but he needed to see Lord Rickard before Lyanna came South.

 His words seem to have struck a chord with the King because the look he wore on his face, was one of pride, rather than the look of shame and disgust that typically greeted him.

 “Finally, you’re starting to think like a true dragon! I consent. Go, go North, and bring them _Fire and Blood_ if need be, but you bring that mutt to heel, or tell him his precious bitch of a daughter will suffer.”

 Rhaegar forced himself to smile as he received his father's praise. The only comfort he had was in knowing that soon, Robert would never, ever again be able to lay a hand on Lyanna. And even sooner, there would be a royal decree to accompany Lord Rickard's refusal.

  _The only silver lining in this…_

* * *

**The Stag Lord**

* * *

  
 The next time Robert's gaze scanned the Hall, he found that Lyanna was now dancing across the hall on the arm of the young Dayne boy. He’d heard that she beat the lad earlier in the day in the riding competition.

  _She’s probably just taking pity on him, poor kid._

 He stood, readying himself to cross the room. There was no way he would allow other men to continue to hold her attentions while he was right here.

 “Robert,” It was Ned. He turned to his approach. “Robert, where are you going?

 He turned gesturing toward the floor. “I’d thought that rather obvious, I mean to ask my Lady for a dance.” He flashed Ned one of his best smiles. But Ned apparently was not here to share in his mirth, as he shot Robert a nervous look. “What? Why have you been acting so odd?” he questioned. Something about this whole night felt weird, he glanced around. Lyanna still dancing with the Dayne boy.

 “Robert, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t been acting odd, I just—, I met a girl, a, um, a woman , I mean.” Ned stammered.

 Robert felt his smile widen, _that lucky bastard!_

“Ned! That Dayne Girl?” He waggled his eyebrows at his best friend. “I always knew you had it in you.” He teased.

Truthfully, Robert hadn't been sure about the honorable fool at all. Every time Robert had tried to introduce him to a girl, the bloody fool would just shut down.

 He clapped his friend on the shoulder, inspiration striking. “We should all do something, you and your lady, me and my Lyanna… where is your lady love anyway?” Ned looked around the Hall, Robert following the path he searched. First, to the High Table, where the prince was speaking with Ser Arthur Dayne, and then back across the Hall in the direction of the exit, where Lyanna was being escorted out by Neds Lady and a Kingsguard.

 He turned back to Ned, fury rising. “What the fuck is going on Ned? And why are the Kingsguard attending Lyanna so closely?”

 “Robert, I’m sure that there is nothing going on.” Ned began explaining. “Lady Ashara is the sister of Ser Arthur, as I’m sure you’re aware. It is not unlikely that Lyanna was feeling tired from her day, and Ashara offered to escort her back to her tent. I assure you, Ser Oswell is likely there to ensure that the Lady Ashara makes it back here unharmed.

 Robert felt his fury start to fade. “Damnit Ned, I don’t like this. Every time I’ve wanted to approach her this evening, it felt as if someone was purposely placed in her path to prevent it from happening.”

 He glanced back across the Hall toward the Royal party, only to find his weakling cousin’s eyes lock with his own.

_What the fuck is going on here?_

 His eyes shot back to Ned’s. “The prince is behind this.” It wasn’t so much of a question as it was an accusation, but Robert had a hunch. Why else would two Kingsguard have such an interest in Lyanna? Why would two Kingsguard ask Lyanna to dance while that inbred cunt’s wife, the Princess, was left unattended. Something was afoot, Robert could feel it in his gut.

 Ned remained calm as he answered. “I won’t pretend to know what it is that you are going on about. I can assure you that the prince has not approached anyone in my party with inquiries about Lyanna, nor has she ever been alone in his company. If he has shown any interest in her, perhaps it is that if a gentlemen, hmm? One who knows that this specific lady in question ” Robert snorted at that part. “Could possibly end up becoming good-sisters to his best friends little sister.”

 Robert had forgotten his ire immediately, Ned had made a valid point but more importantly… “Ned are you seriously going to ask for the girls hand? After one night? I mean, you do understand that the Dornish are more free with their bodies right?”

 _Surely Ned wasn’t that naive?_  If she’d bedded him on the first night, it was a guarantee that he wouldn’t have to wed her to have her again. _Such a foolish boy…_

 _“_ Just because you would not think twice about bedding anyone you encounter, does not mean that I would stoop to such a level, and for your information, she and I have not lain together.” Ned snapped back. The look in his eyes was murderous, and for a moment Robert thought that his best friend looked almost feral.

 On instinct, Robert found himself backing up. Hands raised in peace offering. “Relax Ned, I did not realiz—,” But Ned just cut him off before he could continue.

 “No, you didn’t think, you never do.” He huffed. “Tell me Robert, did you think about Lyanna last night as you bedded those two girls who were seen leaving your tent this afternoon? When you should have been at the races supporting your ‘betrothed’? The way Ned said the word made Robert realize he was being mocked, but Ned hadn’t finished. “Tell me Robert, how long have you been communicating with my father's maester about this “so called” betrothal behind his back? Or did you not know that my father was still no closer to a decision yesterday than he had been a year ago when you sent me to deliver your offer?”

 “Ned, I think you need to relax,” Robert wasn’t sure why he felt the need to calm Ned, but it would do no good to have this fall out here, not now. All of his plans depended on having Lyanna as his. With her by his side, Ned would be his brother, bound by marriage, and the dragons couldn’t hope to stand against their might.

 “Robert, I am calm. Calm comes easy to me, so trust me when I say this. Until you answer these questions, you will never, get close to my sister. Not to dance, not to talk, and never , ever, ever to bed. Am I clear? Do not think I haven’t seen you, your behavior, since you’ve been here. You would shame her before you even had her, you would smother her, try to possess her, you don’t even know her,” Robert could see the cold calm that had settled over the man he called his friend. “Answers are required.”

  Robert swallowed, but before he could reply, Ned turned and walked away. Unsure of how things had gotten switched around between the two of them so quickly, Robert ran his hands over his face, and turned back to the four companions he’d started his night with.

_I need a fucking drink..._

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

 Not long after Lyanna left the Hall, his father had decided to retire as well. Seemingly pleased with himself over his decision to forbid the match between Lyanna and Robert.

_As if it ever would’ve happened in the first place._

Now, without being under the scrutiny of his father's watchful eye, he decided he would retire for the evening. Unfortunately, just before he was able to extract himself from the Hall, he was accosted by Cersei Lannister.

  _Oh great! Let the games begin…_

 “My Prince,” he stopped, turning to face the lioness. Her smile did nothing to mask her intentions, she was every bit a Lannister. So much so that she would never truly be able to hide her ambitious nature. Rhaegar shivered.

 “Lady Cersei, how may I be of service?” He asked, struggling to maintain civility. He watched as she composed herself into the carefully constructed persona she had worked so hard to create in order to seduce him.  
  
 “I was hoping My Prince would honor me with a dance.” She batted her eyelashes at him innocently.  

 Try though he might, Rhaegar could not deny the girls tenacity. “Perhaps another time? It's been a rather long day, and I have some things I must attend to before joining the Princess later on.”

 _Too forward._ He knew, but he needed to be rid of her, as fast as possible, and the best way was to use Elia as his excuse.

 Her carefully composed mask slipped slightly the moment he delivered the news, but she quickly recovered before she replied. “I see, I wouldn't want to keep you from your _duties_ in that case.” He didn't miss the meaning behind her words, but she fixed him with an innocent smile to make the blow easier to swallow.

_You're not the only predator in this hall Lady Cersei._

  “My Lady, you mistake my meaning, ‘tis no duty to call upon my lovely wife, for Elia is a joy to me.” He should have stopped himself, but he couldn't help it, he was on a roll. “Has your lord father given any thought about who he intends you to wed? It's been two years since the King rejected the match between the two of us, I thought for sure someone would have made your Lord Father an offer for you by now.” He was going to hell most likely, but he couldn't help but relish in the discomfort she was clearly feeling. He dug the blade in further. “I hear that Lord Robert will not be getting his match with the Northern Girl,” He hated bringing her up in the present company, but the idea of a match between Cersei and Robert was too good to pass up, especially if the look on her face was any indication of her displeasure. But the most satisfying part was reminding her of the fact that she had been rejected, as had her father. But he wasn’t done yet.

 “The king has taken note of you.” The girls eyes brightened.

_The pretty little fool…_

 “Has he? Perhaps he regrets his decision to not wed us. I know my father still would like to make the match between us. He’s even suggested the Prince might be inclined to take a second wife, to safeguard your line of succession,” her voice sounded hopeful.

  The idea that Tywin had been discussing Rhaegar’s line of succession really pissed him off. Furthermore, the fact that he knew that Elia may have difficulty in that regard troubled him further. He would have to deal with this, but not right now.  Perhaps he was as cruel as his father after all, because the next words to come from his mouth broke her resolve, as he’d intended.

  Rhaegar gave a low deep throated chuckle before he replied, savoring every painful word he was about to deliver. “You are mistaken, Lady Cersei. My wife and I are a good match, and even if I were so inclined as to take another wife, like my ancestors before me, the next woman I wed will be of my own choosing, not my father’s and certainly not yours. But that is a huge ‘ _if’,_ and what’s more, even if such a day came, and my father allowed it, he would still never allow you to sit beside me.” He paused for dramatic effect, allowing the words to sink in before delivering the final blow.

  “If you think there is some kind of joy to be had in this folly, of trying to seduce me, Lady Cersei, you and your father both would be sorely mistaken, because even if I did bed you,” the thought made his stomach queasy, “and I somehow managed to put a babe in you,” she did not attempt to hide her joy at the thought. “My father would never allow it to be born, and he wouldn't suffer seeing you at court after the fact unless he felt particularly generous, in which case, he may even consider taking you as his personal bedwarmer, as a way to remind your father of his place, and the place of a whore.” Her expression was one of abject horror, her face, pale as ice, he could care less.

  He backed up a step before he spoke again. “So you see, the king has taken note of you, of the way that you stare at me, no matter where you are, or I am. The way you follow me around, and yes, when you blatantly offer yourself to me… Unfortunately for you, you’ve thrown yourself at the wrong dragon, for I do not look at you and see what my father sees.” Cersei’s eyes narrowed. “I see only a girl, who doesn’t love herself enough to seek happiness for herself. A girl who does the bidding of her Lord Father, to bring him happiness instead. I see ambition, when I look at you, greed, duplicity. None of which endear me to you. None of which make me want to sleep with you beside me. My father looks at you and he sees your Lady Mother,”

  She clearly thought he meant to compliment her. “It was the king who appreciated your Lady Mother’s charms, not I. I was but a boy, your father should have told you as much when he groomed you for this task.”  
  
  “What do you mean, your father favored my mother?” She asked. He did not care to answer, so he continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

  “If you believe you will fare better as Queen, I would encourage you to seek out my father, though I shudder to think of what my mother would do to you should you actually try.” He smiled sadistically at her.  
  
  “My father would never have allowed any man to dishonor my mother. That,   _King_ , wouldn't have dared touch her while my father was around!” She was starting to loose control.  
  
  Rhaegar leaned in closely “Careful now, My Lady, those words sound of treason. You and I both know that your Lord Father has no say in what the King is or is not allowed. To suggest as such could cause unintended issues for you, and for your father. We both know how my father deals with treason. And let's not forget your twin as well, how foolish you were to put him on this path. Did you not realize what you were giving the King?

   _Apparently not, you pretty little idiot._

  “Yes, congratulations Cersei, you’ve effectively given the King your twin to be used as a hostage, and a weapon  to keep your father in line.” He was starting to feel a little shame about mentioning the late Lady Joanna, so he decided to offer her a bone.  
  
  “As for your Lady Mother, I cannot say as to whether my father and she had ever been intimate in such a way, only that it was rumored to be so. As well as the fact that she had been dismissed from my Lady Mothers service shortly after your Lord Father and Lady Mother were married. My mother claimed that she was sick of my father's attempts to turn her ladies into whores, though the Queen has never uttered an ill word against your mother in my hearing.” He sighed, wanting to be done with this conversation.  
  
  “If that is all, I should be going. But you should mind your moves from now on, and Cersei, I say this from a position of respect, not one of scorn, abandon this foolish pursuit of me, I do not want you, I never have, I doubt I ever will, and I promise, I will not fail to notify my father if you fail to be respectful of my wishes moving forward.” More gently he added, “You should take control of your destiny Cersei. Find yourself someone who will treasure you, you deserve that much, as long as you understand that person will never be me.” And with that, he turned and made for the doors, Oswell and Arthur trailing behind him.

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

   On the way back to her tent, she and Ashara walked ahead of Ser Oswell. Now was as good a time as any to get to know the girl who for all intents and purposes was to be her good-sister. _Or is she already my good-sister now that the bond is complete between her and Ned?_ The truth was, this was all very confusing. She would have to ask Howland about the  specifics.  
  
  She turned to Ashara, and the questions must have been written all over her face because Ashara smiled at her warmly, a reassuring gesture. “You know, you can ask me whatever you want. I promise I will answer.” Lyanna had never had much experience with other women of an age with her. It had always been just her and her brothers and her father. Sure she made friends easily enough at home. She knew all the children that lived within the castle walls, and all the servants by first name, but she had never really considered herself as having any friends other than Winter and her pack. The thought of having not only a friend, but a sister of sorts was queer to her.  
  
  “I’m not sure how to do this.” she confessed. “I have never imagined that I would have this kind of opportunity. Or that I would have someone other than Ned to discuss my mark with, and if I’m being honest, I suppose that this is the one thing I am most curious about. I know that you and I are basically family, but I have only ever had my brothers, I don't know how to do the female bonding thing.” she confessed.  
  
  Ashara nodded her understanding. “If it makes any difference, I am the only daughter of three children. Both my brothers are the oldest. I understand better than you think, Arthur and I don't have what some would consider a conventional relationship between siblings. As you can tell, I am more of his partner than I am his little sister. Though, I suppose he’s still very protective of me, not as protective as your brothers are of you, but I suppose that is understandable.” She took a moment to consider her next words. “We will do this together, learn how to have a sister, and be one. I suspect there is plenty of time for it. Tell me, what do you want to know about the mark?”  
  
  Lyanna took a moment to sort through the myriad of questions running through her mind. “I suppose I understand the origins better than anyone, I have read as much as I possibly could on the matter once it appeared. But there was nothing written about what happens between two people once the bond is sealed. I suppose I'm curious if anything has changed? Do you feel different?”  
  
  Understanding washed across her face as Lyanna’s words sunk in. “Ah, I understand. I hope you don’t mind, Ned helped me to understand your position on things earlier as we were making our way to the Godswood to meet the prince.” Lyanna understood, it's in Ned’s nature to want to put everyone at ease. He would tell her whatever was in his power if it meant her comfort.  
  
  “The first thing I think you should know is, nothing has changed for me, aside from the image I bare on my wrist. I still feel the same, I still have the same passions and I hold the same interests. The only thing that is different is that I now also have an interest in Ned.” She smiled as his name passed through her lips. This also made Lyanna smile too.  
  
  “And do you feel like the mark is responsible for the way you feel toward Ned?” This was important to Lyanna. She couldn't bare to be with a man who she wouldn’t have chosen under normal circumstances, or one who wouldn't have chosen her. She had been questioning her feelings on the matter all night long. Perhaps she didn't like Robert, because the mark promised her to the prince. She couldn't help but to wonder if she was being manipulated by the Gods.  
  
  “I wondered if this is something you would be concerned with. When Ned told me that you would fight against it because you would feel as if your choices were being taken from you.” This didn't shock Lyanna as she supposed it should have. Of course Ned would know what she was really feeling. Lyanna was shocked that the Lady Ashara had already thought about it though. Perhaps the bond helped to expand this understanding between the two of them, she mused.  
  
  “And, what did you come up with?” She asked.  
  
  “I can certainly see how you would be worried about the influence of the mark, I have never had any interest in courting or being courted by men before Ned. I have had my share of flirtations in the past, I won't deny it.” Lyanna found that she appreciated the Lady Ashara’s honesty on the matter. “But I also believe that I like Ned regardless of our mark. And I would have liked Ned with or without it.”  
  
  “What makes you so sure?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It wasn’t like she didn't see Ned as handsome or dashing, in truth she felt that Ned was a much better catch than Bran. He would certainly make any woman proud to call him theirs in her opinion. It was just that Ned was shy, and unlikely to step out of his comfort zone to approach a woman such as the Lady Ashara.  
  
  “Because he is unlike any man I have ever met, and when he looks at me, I feel as if I am the only woman who exists in the entire world. When he takes my hand, it is not with expectation, when he says my name, it sounds like a prayer falling from his lips. I don't know how else to describe the way I feel when he is near me. I hope that this makes sense to you.” It did make sense to Lyanna.  
  
  “So you don't feel that your choices were taken from you? You wouldn't have chosen someone different if you had the chance?” Lyanna hoped she did not let the apprehension she was feeling seep into her voice.  
  
  “Quite the contrary, before last evening, I had no choice to make. I had no intention to choose. I had no desire to attach myself to a man, and lose my identity. I had no reason to. I am the sister of the Sword of the Morning. Arthur would kill any suitor whom I didn't want, and my father and eldest brother know that.” She stopped in their path and turned to Lyanna taking her hand. “If I did not want this match, if I did not want your brother, regardless of this mark, I would not have asked him to join me for a dance last night. The truth was, I had been waiting for him to approach me, I had no idea he was so shy. It was good luck for me that your brother Brandon approached me on his behalf.” Lyanna rolled her eyes, remembering the scene from last night.  
  
  “Is it out of the question for me to ask you about the Princess and the Prince’s relationship?” She had been curious about all of it since the Prince had revealed they dissolved their marriage earlier in the Godswood, and Lyanna was feeling a bit nervous to be in her company in the following days.  
  
  Ashara smiled at her then. A warm, kind smile. “I would be pleased to answer any questions that I have the answer to, but I would like to recommend that you meet the Princess, I am sure she is not what you expect, and I daresay you both would get along well.”  
  
  Lyanna wasn’t sure about that. She was a mere touch away from stealing her husband and her crown if the bond was secured. Again, Ashara must have sensed her apprehension because she placed a calming hand on her arm. “Lyanna, I hope you don't mind if I call you Lyanna?” she paused.  
  
  “I don't mind at all, in fact, I prefer it, thank you.”  
  
  “Lyanna, please do not fear Elia’s reaction. I shall tell you a secret if you promise it won't go farther than the two of us.” Lyanna nodded her affirmation.  
  
  “I swear, whatever you tell me will go no further than the two of us.” Ashara nodded, accepting her word.  
  
  “The Prince and the Princess have always been kind to one another. And it is true that they have a child together. The Princess Rhaenys is a delightful little girl. But they were a marriage of duty. It's a sad thing, but unfortunately it happens all too often. By the time the King chose Elia as Rhaegar’s bride, she had already decided that she would not have a proper match due to her health. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be so.”

  “In Dorne, the Martells have a palace called the Water Gardens. All the children go there to swim and play during the hottest months. We don't feel shame of our bodies, and men and women, boys and girls are not classified by their social standing. All the children of Dorne are welcome into the pools. This is where Arthur and Aedric and I met Elia, Oberyn and Doran as children.” She smiled at what Lyanna could only assume was a fond memory. 

  “Arthur was a shy child, and Elia had spent much of her time alone as a girl, because of her disposition. As you can imagine, a shy boy, and a girl of weak constitution made for great companions. And as they grew, their friendship grew to be love. But Arthur knew that he would never receive the blessing to wed her. She was a princess of Dorne, and he was a second son. Title be damned. So when he turned seventeen, he swore his sword to the Prince, later he was named as a knight of the kingsguard.”  
  
  “No one had any idea of course that Lord Steffon and his wife would perish on their way home from Lys in Shipbreaker Bay, and no one could have predicted that the King would eventually choose Elia to be Rhaegar’s bride. It was thought that the match was made specifically to spite the Hand, as Lord Tywin had refused a match between Ser Jaime and Elia, and another between the Lady Cersei and Prince Oberyn.” Lyanna knew how this was going and she could feel the bile pooling in her gut at the thought.  
  
 “He was forced to watch Rhaegar take the woman he loved to wife, and to bed. . .” Lyanna was about to be sick. She had no idea how Ser Arthur managed to stand by and not act. Her heart hurt for him. And for the Princess, she was not sure how she could have survived such an ordeal.  
  
 To her credit, Ashara simply nodded but carried on with her tale. “The prince, is not his father, fear not. He married her because he was commanded to, he bedded her, because he was commanded to. He bedded her, because had he not, his father would have had someone rape her and force him and Arthur to watch, especially if he had found out that Arthur held affections for the Princess. It was a kindness of sorts.” Lyanna wasn’t sure how she figured _that_ a kindness, it was abuse.

"It makes no difference if his intentions were pure, the Princess had no choice either way," she replied.  
  
 “The princess did choose, she chose duty over love. And she would continue to do so, but our prince is not his father, as I have already said,” Behind them Ser Oswell followed in silence. Close enough to hear, but silent all the same. “I don't know what happened in the time after we all received our marks. But it was about three moons after I received mine when I was summoned to the Sept on Dragonstone. I had no idea what was going on, only that I was to be there. When I arrived, there were a few faces there I wasn’t expecting, one of which was the Prince Oberyn, the other was my brother. He stood before the altar, cloaked in the colors of my house, and then the doors opened behind me, and Rhaegar was escorting Elia into the sept. I watched as Oberyn and the Prince exchanged places, and Oberyn escorted his sister to the altar to stand beside my brother.” Tears began to fall from Ashara’s eyes as she continued her story.  
  
 She took in a deep breath, and then looked at Lyanna again. “You see, apparently while I had been in the dark on the entire thing, Elia and Rhaegar had already decided what they would do. Elia was apparently prepared to stand aside and allow Rhaegar to take a second wife,” Lyanna was appalled at the mere idea.

  “But Rhaegar had watched both Arthur and Elia suffer as her belly grew heavy with Rhaegar’s daughter. He has always been a compassionate man Lyanna, and I think it ate at him knowing that he would be able to take another woman, one that the Gods had intended for him, knowing that she and Arthur were stuck in an undesirable situation. Especially because after Rhaenys was born, it was revealed that the birth had been taxing on Elia’s already frail health, Rhaegar could not bare the thought of causing her harm for the sake of bearing him heirs. The prince shed some light to this earlier when he revealed that he had been prepared to wait until he met you, to act. Because in truth, he was not sure that he would, meet you. He did not wish to shame her by putting her aside for no reason, but Elia would hear none of it.” 

  Lyanna found herself imagining the conversation between the two of them, and she couldn't deny that she admired the princess her fortitude to act. She again wasn’t sure she would have been so strong. Ashara continued, “As it turns out, she had Rhaegar summon the High Septon to discuss the matter of her health, and how it could affect her ability to give the prince heirs. And then they revealed that the prince had been marked. After that, the High Septon was all too happy to help them dissolve their marriage. Of course I had no idea of the mark or what the deciding factor was until today. But I'll tell you what Elia told me when I went to her after we left you all in the Godswood.”

  “When she told Rhaegar that she expected him to take a second wife he outright refused. 

 _‘What? No, Elia I won't be taking a second wife.’_ and she responded,  
  
_‘Rhaegar, you can't deny your link barer. Should you find her, you both must be together. The gods have preordained this. No one can separate an Inked pair. Not a king, or a septon. The Gods will be answered.’_ But apparently he had already decided on the matter before he went to visit her.

  His response was thus, _‘Of this, Elia I know. But you misunderstand. I mean to release you from our vows. Please hear me out. I know you love Arthur. And I know he loves you too.  I mean to do something about it, when I have the means to.’_ But he didn’t stop there. _‘What kind of a man do you think me to be, to stay wed to you while you are forced into a life alone? Nay, I would never expect that of you. We both know what our marriage is. It is a duty, one that was forced on the both of us. I have no doubt sweet Elia that you would have been content to continue at your duty. . .’_  
_  
_  Behind them Ser Oswell chuckled, Lyanna couldn't help but wonder what he found so amusing, she would have to ask him later on. At the moment, she was having a crisis of her own. How could she continue to ignore the feelings she was feeling toward this man, who for all intents and purposes was _hers. . ?_ The only other man she had ever met in her life who could come close to comparing to that level of thoughtfulness is her brother Ned.  

  Her heart was pounding in her chest, if there ever was a man whom Lyanna considered a worthy match, for a lady, it was her brother. Any highborn girl should consider herself lucky for a chance to have Ned as a husband. Well, that ship has sailed at any rate, luckily the Lady Ashara seems to understand that well enough. Lyanna realized in that moment that she liked the Lady Ashara immeasurably more than she thought she would have.

  “I have a question…,” Lyanna understood what Rhaegar had done for his friend and his ex-wife, but she was curious how they would explain one thing… Ashara nodded as if she had expected this to happen. Lyanna took that as permission to continue and forged on. “If your brother married Elia, how does that work with his vows as a kingsguard?” Ashara smiled.

_So she had been expecting this question…_

  “That is a very good question, and I would love to answer it, but perhaps that is a question better suited to the Prince, or the Princess? I can only speculate as to how they worked it all out, but I do know that it was done with the Prince’s approval. The rest of the world believes that the Prince and the Princess are still married though. This is why I ask that we keep this conversation between the three of us.” Oswell had not said a word, but Lyanna understood that he had been listening and would have stepped in if anything that had been said between the two of them was off limits. She accepted this answer, and perhaps she would take the Lady Ashara’s advice and speak with the prince about it.

 

* * *

   She had only been back at her tent about an hour when Benjen arrived, and another fifteen minutes later, Howland showed. “Are you sure it's safe to go?” she asked the two of them. Howland and Benjen looked at each other and grinned.

“What?” 

 “It’s safe, but you don't need to go. When you left the hall, Howland and I used that as an excuse to sneak off at the same time. Everyone was busy, so it wasn’t hard to make our way through the camp—,” Benjen had started to say.  
  
 “Wait, you already got the armor?” she was shocked. “How!?”  
  
 “Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me so rudely you would already have your answer,” Benjen teased. She shot him a piercing glare. They were supposed to have done this together. She huffed out a deep breath, and then  gestured for him to continue. “When we left the hall, mostly everyone was there, and they were deep in their cups. The king was still there as well and we realized that he would not notice our absence. It was when we were walking back to camp that we realized how opportune our chance was, so we took it.” he stopped for a breath. “Now, are you going to glower at us all night? Or would you like to try this armor on to make sure you can move in it?  
  
  She had to admit, they had her. “Fine! I'll try it on, but only because we can't afford to get caught going for more.” her excuse was weak and she knew it.

* * *

**The Raven's Agent**

* * *

  
  “None of this matches, you realize that don't you?” Lyanna complained.

  “Does it really matter if it matches? You're going to wear it for one day, and you're a mystery knight anyway.” Lyanna huffed in response. Howland knew that it didn't matter what the armor looked like, it only mattered that she could move and breathe inside of it. “Can you move in it?” he decided to ask her.

  “I think so,” she lifted her arms from her sides, reaching above her head in full rotation. She twisted her torso from left to right, and then she bent forward at the waist, making sure she had competent range of motion. “It's not comfortable, but I suspect armor isn't meant to be?” 

  “I suspect you are correct. I would not know, as I'm sure you can imagine.” he grinned at her.

  “I know, I know, Crannogmen don't wear armor.” she mocked.

  He ignored her barb, “Would you like to take it off?” There was no reason for her to keep it on now that they knew it fit her well enough. She nodded her confirmation. “Good, because I have a project for us to complete, and a story to go along with it if you would listen…” Her eyes went wide with excitement. He had her at ‘story’ and he knew it.

  She narrowed her eyes, “Is it about my mark?” he shook his head.

  “I confess it is not, but it does have to do with destiny if you would hear it.” She didn't need to be convinced, but he wanted to build her excitement anyway. This way she would be more eager to participate.

  She nodded once, “Very well, help me out of this armor, you two, I should very much like to hear this story,” she confessed.

  So as they set about helping her remove the armor, Howland began his story with a question. “Tell me, what do you know about the people who live beyond the Wall?” At this, both Benjen and Lyanna’s eyes flew to him. He knew that they both had discussed running away to live beyond the Wall, Benjen had even suggested it the previous evening. “It’s not a trick question, I am just trying to determine where to begin,” he urged them gently.

  Lyanna spoke first, “They have lived on the other side of the wall since before it was constructed, or at least that is what is believed. But they don't live in keeps like we do,  and they don't live in large numbers. We call them wildlings, but I’ve heard that they refer to themselves as the _‘Free Folk’_ because they don't follow people based on who they are kin to, they choose their leaders based on strength. I’ve also heard that they allow their women to fight alongside their men.” He knew she wanted to say more, but she waited for Howland to confirm what she had just said.

  “Everything you have said is true, but do you know that in the society of the _‘Free Folk’_ it is the woman who chooses her mate?” Lyanna and Benjen both wore looks of shock on their faces. Howland chuckled before he continued. “Try not to be so shocked. The men aren’t without a say in the matter, but ultimately it comes down to the woman, and whether she deems the man worthy enough to father her children.” He could see Lyanna and Benjen working this over in their heads.

  “That seems reasonable enough,” Lyanna replied, “The North is a harsh place to live, I can only imagine it is harder to live in the lands beyond the Wall. Survival sometimes depends on the strength of our men in winter, I suspect it isn't much different for them. Especially given the history of mothers smothering their babes in winter so that they don't freeze or go hungry.” Howland was impressed by Lyanna’s instincts.

  “Very true. So, in the lands of always winter leadership is chosen based on strength, and for this reason alone, a woman can be chosen as a leader, provided she is strong enough to lead her people.” He paused a moment, trying to decide the best way to continue. “Going back to marriage customs, the _‘Free Folk’_ steal their women,” Lyanna again looked appalled. Howland knew that it was because they have stolen daughters of her father's bannermen in the past. “I know where your mind is going, and I understand why you would think this is a terrible custom, but please let me explain the custom before you pass judgment. I promise you this, even if you don't agree with the tradition, you will at the very least understand the people a bit better.” She nodded her agreement, and so did Benjen.

  There is a time, when a constellation known as the Moonmaid aligns with a planet known as the Red Wanderer, the faith of the Seven call it the _‘Smith’_ , but the ‘ _Free Folk’_ call it the _‘Thief’_. This does not happen often, but when it does, the _‘Free Folk’_ consider it a lucky time to steal a woman. You see, the stealing of a woman is no small thing to the ' _F_ _ree folk.'_ The men are supposed to prove their worthiness by being strong enough to take her. But the woman, she is meant to fight back, to the death if she sees fit. Because if he has not the strength to tame her, he was too weak in the first place to have her.” He paused again, he needed to explain their customs a bit better, he was missing something important.

  “The _‘Free Folk’_ do not marry women from the same tribe as they do, you see. Unlike us, they believe, women who wed brothers, fathers, or clan kin would offend the Gods, and will be cursed with weak and sickly children. So they range far, to other clans, and even sometimes they come over the Wall and they find a woman to bring home. One who they believe is strong enough to ensure their clan will live on. They are not abusing their women, or raping them, it’s just that our customs and theirs aren’t the same, at least they aren’t the same anymore.” Lyanna looked confused.

  He continued on with his story. “The people who live beyond the wall share the same blood as you and I, though it varies between our Houses after so many millennia, but they are the blood of the First Men, same as us. The only difference between us and them, is the Wall that separates us. At one point our customs were very much the same as theirs, or did you already forget about the Stark’s conquest of the North?” Realization must have hit her then because she sat back with a stunned look on her face.

 “I admit, I didn't consider that.” She thought about it a bit more before she spoke again. “So now I’m curious, how does destiny play into this story?”

  _Ah, this was the right question…_

  “It has everything to do with destiny, because it is about to play out.” He was getting excited despite his efforts to stay calm. “Are you aware that House Stark has never wed their ruling line into a house of Andal origin?” She shook her head. “Yes there have been matches between House Manderly and House Stark but only after many generations of northern integration. Of course there were other matches, House Blackwood and House Royce, both of which have Andal blood as well, though both Houses are of _our_ origins.” He paused again before pushing on.

  “In the Seven Kingdoms, there are two such houses who have an obsession with their bloodlines, do you know which two houses I refer to?” He waited for a response.

  “House Stark and House Targaryen,” this time, it was Benjen to speak. Howland nodded his approval.

  “That is correct. In the ten-thousand years since the Starks began their conquest of the North, they have only ventured into the South two times of their own will to seek a marriage alliance. Other than that, they have only ever wed into houses that were kin to them, or close enough to kin. And only to houses containing the blood of the First Men. Up to a point…” He didn’t wish to elaborate on that right now. The reason being, the gifts that run through the blood of your line. Magic such as greenseeing, warging, skin-changing, necromancy, The blood of the Kings of Winter carries the magic of Ice within it, which is just as mighty, and terrible as fire. Imagine what they could have accomplished with the blood of the Dragon...” She must have been expecting this, because she didn't interrupt, she only nodded for him to continue.

  “There are people in the Seven Kingdoms who question the validity that your ancestor Brandon the Builder ever lived, though the North Remembers. There are tales that say he lived for more than a hundred years, though I admit, I can not confirm nor deny the truth in this. But I do know that magic happens and it’s happening now. It should not be a stretch that at some point one of your ancestors found a way to expand his mortal life past what is deemed normal. He would not be the only figure in history who would be able to boast such a feat. Just as the God-on-Earth of YiTi, son of the Lion of Night and the Maiden made of Light, was  believed to have lived ten-thousand years in the Great Empire of the Dawn, before he ascended into the heavens to take his place beside his mother and father. His dominion then passed to his first son who ruled for a thousand years, followed by his siblings, though each reign was shorter than the one that came before it.” He stopped to consider his next words.

  “If the timeline I have worked out is correct, these new emperors all lost power around the time of the Long Night, so is it so much of a stretch that Brandon lived a few hundred years? Who can even say where our people originated from? Based on the history, we crossed the land divide into Dorne almost twelve-thousand years ago. It's entirely possible that we migrated from the great empire. But I am getting off topic.” He watched as Lyanna and Benjen smiled to each other.

  “At any rate,  once House Stark began its conquest, they began to consolidate the magical bloodlines as you have already discovered. However, rather than  marrying their daughters into these magical houses, they began taking the daughters and claiming them for their wives. Sometimes completely wiping out families that they believed to be a threat. House Blackwood once occupied the lands of the Wolfswood, and Sea Dragon Point, did you know that?” Lyanna nodded.

  “Ned and I discovered it when we were doing our research. Edric Stark and Melantha Blackwood…” she didn't finish her thought. Howland nodded.

  “It's always a shock when one realizes that the truth is seldomly a pretty thing. Unfortunately young wolves, all of our families are guilty of things that are less than savory. There is little one would not do to protect the ones they love. Even if it seems unconscionable to you now. But would you feel differently if I told you that everything done was done for the greater good?”

  Lyanna didn’t seem convinced. “I’m not sure that wiping out entire lines could ever be seen as something done for the greater good. What right have we to survive where others did not?” It was a valid question.

  “Yours were the line of the King’s of Winter. The line who helped to build the largest structure in the world at the time, woven with magic and blood, to protect us from the greatest threat humanity has ever faced before, or will ever face again. Yours was the line who harnessed the power of Ice and weirwood. And in order to do what must needs done, yours would do many more things both great and terrible. It is to be expected, and I daresay you will understand this someday soon. There are no clear paths Lyanna, sometimes the right thing will be the wrong thing to someone else. We are all functioning in a realm of varying shades of grey.”

  “This is not a lecture,” he smiled to her and Benjen, “it is a history lesson of sorts. The main goal is destiny. But sometimes, in order to move forward, you must first go back.”

  “This evening, you both learned that Cregan Stark negotiated the terms of the Pact of Ice and Fire, a pact that originally was agreed upon between Torrhen Stark and Aegon the Conqueror. Tell me, did you wonder why this was so important to both Torrhen and Cregan?”

  “I never even knew that Aegon had made such a pact with Torrhen, only that rather than face him in battle, he chose to bend the knee.” Again it was Benjen to speak up.

  “I suspect that not a lot of people know the truth of this, but have you ever wondered why he agreed to bend the knee to the dragon?” they both shrugged. He supposed that it was a no brainer after all this time.

 “Have you looked around?” This time it was Lyanna, “I suppose it's pretty obvious, wouldn't you think?” Howland laughed at this.

  “Yes indeed, though Torrhen couldn't see the twisted stone towers of Harrenhal at the time. The Starks did not spend ten-thousand years conquering the north just to hand it over to a foreign invader. The truth is much bigger than that. The Starks conquered the north and held it for ten-thousand years for a specific purpose. Because they were the only ones who understood the threat beyond the wall. They acquired the daughters from every house associated with magic removing the male line completely so as not to have to face them later on. They were singularly focused in their task. The only magical line they had not acquired up until that moment in time was that of the blood of the dragon.” He hoped she understood where he was going with this.

  “So, if I understand this correctly, you want Rhaegar to steal me? Because I am from the North, and he is from the furthest possible kingdom from mine, both geographically, and genetically? And because he is of a magical line, and was apparently born the opposite of myself?"

 _More or less. . ._ he nodded his confirmation.

  “And what makes you think he would do this?” the look on her face said exactly what she was thinking…

  _She thinks me mad. . ._ He chuckled.

  “Because Rhaegar has been studying the signs his entire life. He is waiting on someone specific, a symbol of winter to act. He is waiting on a Queen of Winter to present herself to him.” She was absolutely confused, she wore her thoughts on her face like an open book. “Destiny Lyanna, this has all been preordained in one way or another. When the prince was a boy, he was bookish to a fault, until one day he went to the master at arms and requested a sword. He had been reading something in one of his scrolls that convinced him that he needed to be a warrior.” He watched as it began to click into place.

  “He wants to prove himself worthy of me? He wants to prove himself to me, is that what you're saying? So that I won't kill him if he tries to take me away from my home? Because he wants to honor our customs, and he wants to prove that he will not weaken my bloodline if I choose to accept him.” Howland was impressed with how quickly she picked up what he was trying to relay to her.

 “Very good, I must admit you’ve impressed me, he told her approvingly. Do you understand why your line is so important, and why it is so important to join these two bloodlines?” she shook her head. "Because of these two Houses, House Stark has the highest concentration of magic in their blood. For all the safeguarding the Targaryen's did to keep the bond between them and their dragons, they allowed the Faith of the Seven to push them toward diluting it, so by the time of the Dance of Dragons, the magic within the male line was too weak to pass along the gene that allowed them to hatch and bond with their dragons, House Stark has no such issue with their spirit connections... Your house boasts the most impeccable magical bloodline in all of the Seven Kingdoms, even more possibly in the whole of the Known World."

 “So what is this sign?” Ah, this is good, she was ready.

 “Where do our people choose to seal their vows of marriage?” He watched as realization dawned on her.

 “A weirwood!” The smile that grew across her face lit up the room.

* * *

  **The Silver Prince**

* * *

   
 They walked in silence. Well, Arthur and Oswell walked in silence, not so much for the Prince. Inside his dragon was raging her approval. It was then that he realized that his instincts had always been reliant on her reactions. _Kind of like a seventh sense, or a third eye_ , he mused to himself.

 “ _I know you are there, even if we’ve never met face to face, but thank you for everything. For being here when the nights are darkest, for guiding me with your wisdom. I get that you feel alone, and perhaps you don't quite trust me, but I trust you, and I understand. Until you do, I promise, this connection is enough. We can mourn our ghosts together, and maybe one day, you will allow me the honor of knowing your name.”_

 Rhaegar had never spoken to her before. Too afraid that to do so, would only prove he was as mad as his father. But suddenly he wished that he had, perhaps if he had, they would know each other better by now. Nevertheless he felt her approval through their bond, though she said nothing to him, neither through words or images, only a melody. Rhaegar smiled then, Inspiration striking him.

 “ _Thank you.”_

 Turning to Arthur and Oswell he spoke, “I'm going to get my harp, and then I plan to go to the Northern Camp,” he almost fell over laughing when he saw the expressions on their faces.

  “Are you sure that’s best, you heard her brother Brandon earlier? Have more care for her character and her reputation.” Arthur complained.

 “I do not intend to see her, I plan to play her a song.” Obviously he would not seek to wake her. He just wanted to play for her, even if she wouldn't hear it, even if she couldn't see it.

 “You intend to play her a song, but not see her?” Oswell looked incredulous. “Forgive me, but what would be the point of that?”

 “There is nothing to forgive, however, I don't have to explain it either, I only need to inform you of my plans so that you can protect me.” A devilish grin took over his face. “Come, let us retrieve my harp and be away.”

 “The Northern camp was quiet when they made their approach. “Lead the way toward her tent Oswell.” His friend still looked perplexed by their current task, though Rhaegar just couldn't care. He could not seal their bond, he couldn't dance with her, or hold her in his arms, he could do nothing, nothing but wait for her, and watch as other people spent their time acquainting themselves with her. But this, this is something that only he could do. A way for him to touch her, without physically putting his hands on her. A way to court her regardless of the mark.

 Lyanna deserved this, and Rhaegar was determined to deny her nothing when it came to her happiness. He knew that _prophecy_ and _visions_ could only take him so far… the mark was only a _beacon._ It didn't solve the matters of the heart. That would be his job, and his alone, and he fully intended to take this part seriously. It could only help her to trust him better.

 Lyanna’s tent had been situated in the center of the camp, surrounded by three other tents of equal size. Around them tents that belonged to the retainers and their Bannermen, Rhaegar presumed, based on the sigils adorning them. Nearby, Rhaegar saw a tree and made his way toward it, deciding that it was a perfect place to set up, the distance was not too far from Lyanna’s tent. Arthur and Oswell took up positions that were easily defendable, while he sat exposed in the midst of the Northern camp.

 There were quite a few songs he thought to be fitting, but there was one in particular he thought she may appreciate. He’d wrote it the last time he’d visited Summerhall. So, he crossed his knees and pulled his harp into a comfortable position and began to pull at his strings.

 The song was about a fair maiden from a far away kingdom, who longed for freedom and adventure, and of a prince who also longed for freedom, and for a friend who could rescue him from his prison of solitude placed around him since the day of his birth. This prince would sit in his prison with only his harp for company, playing and composing the songs in his heart, hoping that one day someone would hear and come to his aide.

 Eventually someone did come, and they slew the beast that had locked him away with a bow that had been fashioned from weirwood, breaking the spell that had imprisoned him. But when he went to give his thanks to the brave knight, it was revealed that the knight was actually a woman. And so, the maiden rescued the prince, ending his torment and his solitude, and together they remained, until their final days.

 It was the first time that he’d played the tune in front of his knights, so he’d kept his eyes closed as he manipulated the strings of his harp, only opening them once the song had reached its end. To his surprise, and his relief, it was Lyanna who he saw first.

 She smiled at him the moment their eyes connected. ‘That was beautiful,” she admitted in a hushed tone,  as she wiped a tear from her eye. Her hair was down, around her shoulders, she stood in her night dress unashamed to be seen in such a state of undress. Rhaegar swallowed down the lump forming in his throat.

  _You're beautiful…_

Rather than admit what he’d been thinking he merely said, “Thank you,” she just chuckled. “are you not cold?” He stood, planning to offer his cloak to her. Instead she smiled sweetly at him, and gestured for him to stay where he was, so he did.

 “I am of the North, ‘tis hot for me. Or have you already forgotten that I am Winter?” she teased. She looked down to inspect her state of undress. It must have occurred to her what Rhaegar had meant because she crossed her arms over her chest protectively. He couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. “Does my night dress make you uncomfortable?” she pushed herself away from her tent, and made her way toward him. He swallowed, suddenly nervous.

 He shook his head in response. “It’s not that, but your brother did chastise me earlier about showing respect for your reputation,” he heard Arthur snort, no doubt playing back the conversation that they’d just had in his mind.

 Lyanna just chuckled at his words. “My brother is most likely in his cups, and he knows that I care not about modesty. I was raised by men. I thought myself a boy for the longest time, or would have, had my father's maester not reminded me of my sex at every available moment.

 Rhaegar did not miss the annoyance in her tone when she mentioned the maester, but knowing what he knew, he couldn't say he blamed her. Rather than give voice to his thoughts, he asked a question. “Did I wake you? It was not my intent,” he wanted to confess what had brought him to her, but he couldn't find the words.

 She just shook her head, then she motioned for him to move aside, and so he did, allowing Lyanna the space to sit down beside him, to his surprise. He moved further, mindful not to touch her, and then he thought better, and placed his cloak between them as a makeshift barrier. She began to laugh at his efforts much to his dismay.

 “Gods, you really do plan to torture yourself, don't you?” he asked. Her words making no sense to him.

 “Torture myself?” _Why would he ever do such a thing?_

 “Aye, torture yourself. In order to keep your word, by not touching me.” Lyanna’s words struck home. It was true, he had been torturing himself over this. Every fiber of his being was urging him to seal the link, whether through force, or treachery, or with her consent. He supposed that was the real truth behind this visit. He wanted to convince her to accept him. Subconsciously, his link was in control, and he had been torturing himself for her… _comfort?_

“Does the mark not have the same effect on you?” He was confused, she did indeed seem less affected by him, than he, her.

  To his dismay, Lyanna did not respond to his question, instead she asked one of her own. “Did you know that these marks are a gift from the Old Gods?”

  He had. Everything he’d read had confirmed as much. He nodded his confirmation. “Did anything change for you the day your mark presented itself?” She followed up.

  This had Rhaegar confused. “Change? Like what?” The only thing that had been different was the mark and the burning.

_No, everything had been the same._

  “I don't know, that's why I am asking. From what everyone has told me, aside from you of course, I have learned that everyone seemed to receive their mark the day the ravens arrived announcing winter.” Rhaegar thought about it.  
  
  “That is when I received my mark as well, though it was more of the next morning than it was the day the ravens arrived. Did something change for you?” She had him, and now he wanted to know where she was going with this. Instead, she began to blush.

  “Did I say something wrong?” The last thing he wanted was for her to leave. Not when she was right here, for the first time all day, beside him, rather than someone else.

  She shook herself from her thoughts and straightened before she answered. Smiling, she said, “Not at all, I just hadn’t pictured myself having this conversation with anyone outside my family.” Rhaegar wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  Stealing herself, she answered his question. “Yes, something changed for me when I received my mark.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Every time the seasons change, I offer a sacrifice to the Gods, to seek their blessings, and their protection for not just myself, but for my _pack_ , and my people. My mother taught me these customs before she departed, and I've kept them alive for her ever since.” she explained so that he would understand her better, but he had always known about the offerings. They did not bother him. She continued, “Only this year, as soon as I gave the offering, my wrist began to burn. Not the burn of fire, the burn of Ice.” He understood this too, his had been the burn of fire, only Rhaegar hadn’t been seated before a weirwood when his mark began to manifest. And suddenly, Rhaegar understood something new about their marks— he kept his thoughts private though, allowing Lyanna to continue before he said any more.

  “At first, like you, there had been nothing, but later on, I began feeling sick, so I retired to my chambers.” She swallowed, “The next day, I woke to my mark, and my, my first moonsblood.” He could hear Arthur and Oswell move away and he smiled at this.

  _How is it men aren’t scared of a maidens blood, but moonsblood can send the deadliest knights running for their lives?_

“I understand, and I think that you already know the answers you are seeking,” was the only response he could offer her. If she wanted to expand upon this, he would oblige, of course. But he would not push on, unless she asked it of him.

  To his surprise, she did not shy away from the topic. “I thought as much. The Old Gods activated the marks because of me. Because of my moonsblood…” it was not a question.

  “Did you ask Lord Reed about this?” Rhaegar was no expert in determining the cause, but if the Crannogman was supposed to be their guide, he was pretty sure that this was an answer the lad could provide.

  “I confess, I have not. I asked only you.” A look of guilt ghosted across her features. He wanted to take her hand and comfort her, but he could not. So instead he just sat there, lending his support through his presence alone.  
  
  “What is it? What troubles you Lyanna? Please do not feel as if you can't speak freely with me.” he urged her, hoping his words would help to ease her fears.

  “It’s just, if I’m the reason for these marks, then I have done you a disservice.” His confusion must have been plain on his face, because she quickly elaborated. “Your marriage, your family…”

  Quickly he stopped her before she could spiral further down this black hole. “Hey, do not say such things. You’ve done nothing wrong. Don't you understand? These marks, they have changed nothing.” She was the one confused now, so he tried again.

  _“The gods have favored you since the day of your birth, they have fashioned you, alongside another to bring balance.”_ He smiled softly at her as the last words left his lips. The statement itself feeling like holy doctrine, and he knew the moment he finished his sentence that he’d said the words she needed to hear most in that moment.

  “Thank you,” was all she said.

  “What have I done to deserve your thanks?” he asked.

  “You shall see,” was her only answer. He wasn’t sure if he trusted those words. So he quirked a brow at her.

  She laughed, a real laugh, loud and uninhibited, and Rhaegar realized that he loved the sound of it as much as he had loved the sound of his harp the first time he heard it, for the musical sound that her joy created was like the sound of angels singing. And just like that, he found himself laughing too.  
  
 “I don't think I shall ever tire of that sound.” He confessed to her.

  She relaxed again, and then she stood, and Rhaegar knew what this meant. “I would offer you my help to rise, but…” she lifted a brow.

  “But the bond.” Rhaegar finished for her. She nodded.

  “Rhaegar,” his name sounded like a prayer coming from her lips.

  “My Lady?” She scowled at him. “Lyanna?” he corrected himself. He had forgotten already their agreement to drop titles. “Sorry, habit.”

  She nodded her understanding. “I meant only to say…,” She began to blush, and this too, made him smile. She was so lovely. How he yearned to reach for her. She captured her bottom lip between her teeth, and Rhaegar almost leapt at her, _did she not know the effect she had on him?_

  “I meant only to reassure you, things won't always be this way between us. Do not question whether I'll accept the bond or not, it will come, possibly sooner than later. I cannot say, but know that you are not alone in your torment…” She did not wait for his reply. Rather, she turned on her heels, and floated back to her tent, leaving Rhaegar alone, save for his two knights, his harp and his thoughts, already feeling the loss of her.

  She had given him much to think over in the hours to come. But one thing he was sure of; He’d officially stolen her. Sure, not literally, or physically, but small victories are just as important as the greater ones. And tonight he’d achieved three.

  The first, was keeping Lyanna away from his  whoremonger of a cousin.

The second was his father's decree to forbid the match between her and said whoremonger.

And the third time… he was pretty sure it just took place.

  He had stolen her heart, and Gods knew she had already stolen his.

 


	18. The Knight of the Laughing Tree.

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 Lyanna awoke to Brandon, “Lya, if you don't get up now, your going to miss the opening for the second day of games.”

 She rolled onto her side, back facing her brother. She’d expected this of course, but Brandon had been in the dark on her plans, so she just pretended to ignore him.

 “Lyanna, get up.” Brandon called again.

 She groaned, letting him know she’d heard him the first time, so long as he couldn’t see her face, he would be unable to see the lie she was about to spin for him.

“Bran, I don’t think I’m going.” She left it at that, less was more.

 His voice carried an edge of concern when next he spoke. “Still not feeling well?”

 She had practiced this part of course, “Worse,” she groaned again. “My moons blood is here.” She smirked under her blankets imagining the horror painted across her brothers face.

  _Stupid boys, scared of moons blood but not of spilling it._

Lyanna could hear the sound of her brothers feet backing toward the exit to her tent. And she smiled into her pillow. “Uh, yikes Lyanna,” Brandon stammered, struggling to find the right words in this situation. “Is there, um,  anything, uh, that you need?” He finally finished.

 Laying it on thick, Lyanna groaned loudly. “Just go! I’ll be fine.” Brandon didn’t even try to argue, instead he followed her command and exited the tent without so much as another word, leaving her to herself. She sat up, and smiled. Pleased with herself over her success at duplicity.

  _Maybe I am a better liar than everyone thinks…_

* * *

**The Quiet-Wolf**

* * *

 

  Ned’s head was still reeling from his confrontation with Robert the night before. He hadn’t intended to unload on him the way he did, but when he’d insinuated that Ashara and he had—, that he’d dishonored her. That he was anything like Robert, it made his blood turn cold, and his inner wolf howl.

 He still hadn’t spoken about it to anyone aside from Ashara, and only because he knew he couldn’t keep it from her. He needed to tell Brandon, and most likely the prince now that everyone was likely sober enough to listen with a clear head.

 He took a look around his box, Brandon was speaking with Ben and Howland. Ashara hadn’t arrived yet, no doubt she was still with the princess. Robert was missing from the games again, unsurprisingly.

 “Where’s Lyanna?” He asked aloud to anyone willing to answer.

 Brandon’s face flushed slightly. “I left her back at camp, she’s not feeling well.” He adjusted his collar. Ned wasn’t sure what to make of his brothers behavior, but he dismissed it anyway. If Brandon says Lya is unwell, then there was nothing to doubt. Otherwise she’d be here no matter what.

 Just then Ashara approached, “My Lords,” she greeted with that kind smile of hers.

 Ned stood, taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “My lady, you look beautiful as always.” He complimented. “You’ve made it just in time for the start.” He gestured toward the seat between himself and Benjen. “Would you care to sit with Benjen and I?

 Beside him, Benjen beamed at his good-sister to be.

 As it turned out, Ned wasn’t the only Stark taken by the Lady Ashara’s beauty. He would have rolled his eyes, except he could find no fault in Benjens appraisal.

 “It would be a pleasure to sit beside two fearsome northern wolves.” She cleverly responded, her smile radiant as ever.

 Ned couldn’t help but swell with pride at her words. Of course she couldn't know what they’d meant to him. She couldn’t know how he’d never felt apart of the _pack,_ the way Brandon, Lya and even Benjen were. All of them had a touch of the wolf-blood but not Ned. No one had ever accused him of being wild, or impulsive.

  Until recently, no one said anything much to him about it at all. But once Lyanna had questioned his loyalty to the _pack,_ he’d found himself thinking on the matter more and more, and as he thought about it, he’d come to realize that there was no denying, his time in the Vale had taken much of the north from him. These thoughts had plagued him more and more since his last trip home, and no matter how hard he’d tried, he realized quickly that the Vale didn’t feel the same to him any more.

 Maybe it had been the mark, perhaps not, but he had felt the call to return home the moment he’d passed through the Neck. And now that he and Ashara had secured their link, the call was louder than ever. Especially while he slept.

 The first match was called just after the King and the Prince arrived and were seated. Today, Lord Whent’s other two sons as well as his brother had matches all scheduled for the first half of the day.

 “Are you feeling any better?” Ashara asked, taking his hand in hers. And without even trying, suddenly he did feel better.

 “Aye,” he smiled warmly. “Now I am.”

 “Have you spoke to Robert again since last night?” She asked. Though something in her tone made him pause. She seemed almost if she were probing his knowledge of Robert's activities, and holding back information she wasn’t ready to share.

 “Nay, I’ve yet to see him and I’ve yet to talk to Bran or the Prince about it.” He confessed, still suspicious.

 “Well, best not delay. I do not think it wise to let these tensions fester, not right now at any rate. This situation will need to be handled delicately.” Ashara counseled.

 Of course she was right, for a few reasons. If Robert overreacted and it was revealed that they had been marked, Aerys would no doubt react badly.

  Another thing; the Prince and his marriage, or lack thereof, to the Princess Elia, along with her subsequent marriage and pregnancy involving Ser Arthur, Rhaegar’s Kingsguard.

  No, Ned would have to find a way to pacify Robert at least until his father could speak with him on the matter.

 “I will speak with Robert, but Ashara,” his voice was low, a slight edge to it. “I expect those answers I requested of him. Regardless of my decision to make peace.” No matter what the situation, he made a decision last night, and he gave his word on the matter. His honor demands that Robert answer to the accusations Ned made against him. And on this, he was sure his Father and brothers would agree.

 When the first half of the joust was called, Benjen and Howland stood and made to leave. “And just where do the two of you think you’re going? He enquired of them.

 “To go check on Lyanna, and bring her some food. We’ll be back before the second half, I swear.” Benjen gave his word.

 “You’re a good lad.” Brandon said, clapping Benjen on the back. “Braver men wouldn’t dare venture into the She-wolf's lair in such a time,” he teased.

 It dawned on him then why Brandon had behaved the way he had earlier.

 To Ben’s credit, he simply shrugged, “I’m a wolf too big brother, and my fangs are just as sharp.” He joked, before running off with Howland toward their camp.

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

 Not long after Bran left, Ben and Howland showed up to make sure that their carefully laid plans were still in play. “Of course they are still in play! Do you think I would miss a day of jousting unless I was actually entering myself?” She turned to Benjen. “You know where to leave everything?”

 “Aye, in the godswood, close to the stream. Tie the sack up in the branches of the big oak tree.” He repeated the plan that they had made the night before.

She nodded her confirmation before speaking it. “Aye, and which of you plan to check in with me at midday?”

 They both shrugged. “One of us will, I hardly think it’s important which of us will come, someone will be here, so just be ready regardless.” Benjen replied but then added, “Howland is going to squire for you while I report back to Ned and Bran, I think this is the better option, so expect us both.”

 She nodded her ascent, best not to over complicate matters. Before the boys left, Lyanna made sure to send Benjen with a note that she’d written for Ashara and The Princess Elia. An apology for missing the joust and for being unable to join them. She hoped that this would be enough of a reason to excuse her absence.

 Looking around her tent, Lyanna realized then, how long her afternoon would truly be. With nothing to do, and nowhere she could escape to, Lyanna made her way over to one of her traveling trunks and pulled out some of the books she’d brought with her. She went over to her cot, and settled herself in, flipping open the tome, and began her wait in the company of one Septon Barth.

 When Ben and Howland came for her at noon, it was with great news. And some food thank the gods!

 The other knights belonging to House Frey and House Haigh advanced into the next round. Howland saw to it that she had been entered into the list, and submitted the names of the Knights she wished to challenge. And all that was left was getting dressed and delivering northern justice for her friend.

 She dressed in a pair of breeches, and a plain white tunic, grabbed her boots, and a black cloak, and threw it about her shoulders. Howland pulled the hood over her head to cover her features. “Stick with me,” he whispered. And she did.

 They moved along in complete silence, aside from Howland, who was humming a low tune. She had no idea why, but he seemed to be deep in concentration, so she remained as quiet as possible and stuck closely to Howland as they moved beneath the shadows of the tents, toward the tourney grounds, and the Castle proper.

 Just when they were approaching the castle Howland turned to her, a knowing smile on his face. “Today is a big day for you, Lyanna.”

  _What does he know?_

 _“_ Aside from presenting yourself to him as a true winters queen, the stars and the planets are beginning to align. Have you decided yet?” He asked her in his cryptic way.

 She nodded “Aye, I think I have. Last night, he came to play me a song.” Howland smiled knowingly...

  Lyanna had fallen asleep the previous evening thinking about the prince. The melody of her song playing in her mind. In her dreams she made the move already, when she crossed the distance between them, she’d knelt down before him and took the harp from his grasp. Before he could say anything, Lyanna leaned into him, and pressed her lips against his.

 It hadn’t been the first time she’d dreamt of him. Only the first time that she could hear his voice, and see his face.

 His hands found her face, and he pulled her back once more, tangling his fingers into her hair. His lips met hers in a searing kiss. He taste of cinnamon and smoke, and he smelled of brimstone and ash, but not unpleasantly so.

  In fact, his scent coupled with the taste of him was quite intoxicating to her. But before she could encourage him further he pulled away from her.

 “What was that for?” He sounded breathless, and Lyanna could not help but to admit to herself how much she loved the way she affected her _‘dream_ _prince.’_

 _“_ Do I need a reason?” She teased. “You played me a song, and it deserves a reward.” She smiled suggestively.

 “A reward?” He asked confused.

 She nodded her confirmation. “Indeed, a reward.” She murmured to him, almost breathlessly.

 “I do hope, in the future you will only accept mine own songs, for I dread the fate of another bard, should you be so generous in your payments.” Her prince teased.

 “‘Tis only a dream at any rate. I can kiss whomever I please in my dreams.” Her prince frowned at her, but she continued on, “it just so happens that it pleases me to kiss you.” She finished haughtily.

  _Dream Rhaegar_ seemed confused at this. “What do you mean “ _‘tis a dream?”_ I am here, am I not? Arthur and Oswell are here as well.”

 Lyanna could not help but smile. “Are they? I hadn’t noticed.” She challenged him. “Perhaps it might be best if you forgot about all that for the time being.” She pushed him back so that he lay flat against the ground, and began to climb up his torso, so that her legs straddled his hips.

 “You spend so much time with them, I should think that right now you’d like to spend some time with me.” She husked, knowing in reality she would have never dared behave so boldly. But she was dreaming, and she knew that in the morning, only she would know the truth of her innermost desires.

 She leaned into him bringing his hands to her thighs, helping him to make the first move, and so he did, sliding the fabric of her nightdress up until it pooled around her waist. She claimed his mouth once more.

 This time, however, her prince deepened the kiss, teasing her lips apart with his own, then sliding his tongue into her mouth. Lyanna moaned her approval, meeting his tongue with her own.

 Slowly, Rhaegar began to knead at the flesh of her hips, pulling her forward, and then pushing her back again. She could feel the length of him stiffening beneath her, and it excited her beyond measure.

 She followed his lead, pressing her core into his hard length, causing a moan to escape her lips, at the same time her name left his mouth in a breathy rush.

 “Lyanna—,” he choked out. “Oh Gods, what are you doing to me?” His voice was laced heavily with want and need.

  _For me… he wants me, he needs me…_ The thought came unbidden, and it thrilled her in ways she could not describe.

 “I do nothing you do not want, and I do nothing I do not yearn for myself.” She confessed to her _‘dream_ _prince’_.

 Whatever she said, must have been enough to convince her prince of her sincerity, because he lost whatever semblance of self restraint she had fabricated for him. One moment she was straddling him, the next, she was beneath him, pinned to the ground under his weight.

 His mouth came down upon hers once more, his hands began to roam up her body, and she found herself arching into him. Everywhere his hands touched, flames remained behind to lick at her flesh, only to be replaced by the cooling burn of his lips.

 Lyanna grabbed for the hem of his shirt, she wanted to see him, to touch his skin too, to taste his flesh. He must have realized what her intent was, because he stopped in his worship of her, and removed his shirt. She took a moment to really appraise him, before pulling him back to her.

 He was gorgeous, a true adonis. All hard lines, and pale skin as soft as silk, his hair was the color of snow, kissed by ice, her hands moved on their own. First to his cheek, where she took the time to memorize the look in his eyes, then down, to trace the contour of his collarbone. He shivered from her touch, and that made her smile.

 “Something amuses you?” He questioned.

 “Not at all, I only noticed that my touch upon your skin has the same effect as your touch on my own.” This made him smile too.

 She sat up, so that her face was mere inches from his, and she fisted her hands into his hair, pulling him to her. Kissing him as hard, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth, she bit down, not hard, but not soft either.  And then he was upon her once more, lifting her so that he sat beneath her on his knees, one arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him, the other was exploring her body, her thighs, then the curve of her ass, up her ribcage, she shivered… when he got to her breasts she could do naught but push into his hand, moaning as his fingers found her nipple and teased it into a hard peak.

His mouth seeking the reward of his ministrations. . .

  “Lya—, Lyanna? Are you even listening to anything I’m saying?” Lyanna found herself roused from her thoughts by Howland.

 Somehow she had zoned out of her conversation with Howland and had no idea when she’d arrived at the oak tree in the Godswood. Clearing her mind of all thoughts of her _dream prince_ she focused her gaze on her guide.

 “I’m ready.”

 

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

  The second day of the games went on long into the afternoon, Rhaegar found himself itching to leave. Lyanna hadn’t shown today, and he found it difficult to stay seated, knowing she was in her tent alone.

 He’d had the strangest dream once he’d returned to his tent the previous night, one that felt more real than any he’d had before. When he woke this morning he had to take himself in hand, otherwise he too would be confined to his tent still—, He was broken from his thoughts by his father.

 “Where’s that wolf bitch?” The king questioned. Suspicion plain in his tone.

 “Elia said the Lady was feeling unwell today, and had remained back at camp, under watch.” He couldn’t tell his father what Lyanna’s note had actually claimed, but surely the king could put it together on his own.

 “You’ll check about it yourself, do you hear me? I will not have the word of would be traitors, and I won’t have someone trying to make off with the bitch!” The king commanded.

  _Someone is planning to make off with her though…_

  Rhaegar knew that the command itself was less to do with irritation or paranoia and mostly to do with being in control of things, so he accepted his father's orders.

 “As you command, I will go now if it please you.” It made no sense to delay, in truth, he wanted to know how she fared as well.  

 He made to stand, and he was sure his father was about to excuse him when suddenly, a mystery knight was called to appear in the lists, and Rhaegar saw his father freeze.

 “Nay, you’ll stay. You will check on the bitch later. Who is this Mystery Knight?” His father enquired of him.

 “In truth, Your Grace, I do not know. Ser Barristan has entered under his own pseudonym.” Rhaegar scanned the boxes to see who was missing, but just as his search started, his mark began to tingle.

 The herald called the first match. “The Mystery Knight has challenged the knights of House Frey, House Haigh, and House Blount.”

 At this, Rhaegar’s eyes snapped up, searching for this mystery challenger. Something wasn’t quite right. He looked first to his right, where he saw the Porcupine Knight line up, and dawn his helm.  Then he searched left.

 Sure enough down on the other side of the yard, the Mystery Knight sat upon his mount. His armor was ill-fitting, and mismatched, but that is not what drew his focus. The Mystery Knight’s shield was made entirely of Weirwood, and the device painted upon it was that of a bone white Weirwood on a black field, with a laughing red smile.

 Rhaegar felt the corners of his mouth curl upward. It was happening… he looked up into the sky… blue, nothing; he sat forward in his seat.

 Across from his box the Starks sat. The three boys were all in attendance, the Crannogman though, was missing. Rhaegar looked back toward the Mystery Knight.

 _Short of stature, but the mount is a chestnut brown palfrey… not Winter._ Rhaegar was confused. He was almost positive that the Knight was Lyanna, but the horse was wrong, and the guide is missing.

_Perhaps the Knight is the Guide?_

Then the match was opened, and both challengers set off at a brisk pace. The porcupine Knight rode well enough, he had proved that the previous day against one of Oswells nephews, but he had nothing on today’s challenger.

 The Mystery Knight moved like the wind belonged to him, and soon he had gained on his opponent, allowing him to move his lance into position before the porcupine Knight could react. The Mystery Knights lance struck true, and before anyone knew it, the Porcupine Knight was lifted from his saddle and flung into the dirt.

 The crowd erupted in cheers, which did not surprise Rhaegar. In truth, the common and highborn alike love when a Mystery Knight appears. This time would be no different.

 It was a few moments before the porcupine Knight found his footing and was escorted from the yard. But once it was clear, the second challenger was called. This time it was the knight of House Haigh, to enter from the right of the royal box.

 If Rhaegar had been in doubt of the Mystery Knights identity before, he had no doubt now. It was indeed his intended down on the field. Seeking justice, fighting her own battles rather than seeking a champion.

 The pitchfork knight managed to last three rounds against his lady, before being unhorsed in the fourth round. And after his victory the people began chanting “Knight of the Laughing Tree.”

 Rhaegar smiled to himself, knowing that he and possibly Lyanna were the only two who knew what was actually happening. Beside him, his father continued to grumble.

 When the herald called the third and final match, Rhaegar sat back in his chair. House Frey was a proud House, and this Knight was no different. It was no surprise that he had given more of a challenge to the Mystery Knight. They had both broken lances, Lyanna two and the Knight of House Frey broke one after the third pass, but miraculously she held on to her mount, though Rhaegar was sure that the hit would leave a bruise. On the seventh pass, Lyanna’s lance finally found its mark and the knight of Two-Towers found himself lying in the mud.

 It took everything in him to refrain from rushing onto the field to check on her. He could not chastise her though, he understood the reason for such subterfuge but he’d be lying to himself if he said it did not bother him to see her put herself in danger.

 The three defeated knights came forward, before the Royal box to ransom their armor and mounts, the Mystery Knight already waiting. But when she spoke, it was not with Lyanna’s voice. The voice was loud and booming, and clearly not natural, but it was not hers.

 “Teach your squires honor, and that shall be payment enough!” The Mystery Knight commanded. And when the knights had properly chastised their squires his Lady Knight returned their belongings and then exited the field.

 The King said nothing, though Rhaegar could see the barely concealed rage simmering just beneath the surface of his eyes.

  _This will not be good…_

“Rhaegar, go find out about that slut, I want to know where she is, and I want to know where our cousin is.” His father had a point, Rhaegar hadn’t seen Robert since last evening, come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Cersei either.

 Rhaegar turned to his father, and bowed his head. “As Your Grace commands, I shall come to you as soon as I leave the girl.” He acquiesced. The king simply nodded and called for Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan to escort him back to his chambers, where he would remain until the feast later tonight, Rhaegar suspected.

* * *

**The Quiet-Wolf**

* * *

 

  Ned was starting to wonder about Ben and Howland once he realize the second half was about to start, when his brother returned. “What took so long, and where is Howland?”

 Benjen rolled his eyes. “Why are you all nerves? I had to get Lyanna something to eat remember? As for Howland, he decided to stay with Lyanna to keep her company.”

 He told the lie so easily, it was obvious that it had been practiced. Ned shot Ben a side glance, and watched as his little brother paled and shrunk back in his seat.

 It was as he’d thought. Benjen was hiding something, but before he could dig deeper, the herald announced the opening to the second half of the joust.  A Mystery Knight was also announced, and as soon as he made his way to the end of the yard, the crowd went deathly quiet. No doubt trying to figure out his identity.

  He wasn’t sure, but if his memory serves, the last knight to enter as a Mystery challenger was Simon Toyne the leader of the Kingswood Brotherhood. Who had a grudge against House Targaryen and meant to do harm to the prince, but was unhorsed when he finally faced off against him. Following his defeat at Storms End, the Kingswood Brotherhood managed to cross paths with Princess Elia and her honor guard when she was in transit to King's Landing to be married to the prince.

 Something about this did not sit well with Ned, he just wasn’t sure what. That is, he had no idea, until the Mystery Knight’s challengers were announced. Once he heard, his accusing eyes shot to Benjen who was currently, purposefully ignoring him.

 It was probably for the best. Any reaction on his part could end in disaster for his sister. And he was sure—, oh he was sure that the Mystery Knight was Lyanna.

 Down at the end of the yard, sat a Knight, short in stature, clad in mismatched armor. His, (or her in this case), horse was a chestnut palfrey, and his shield, solid Weirwood. The device painted on it was a Weirwood standing out against a black field with a huge laughing red smile.

 It took everything Ned had to keep from bursting forth from their box to drag his sister back to camp.

 _How stupid could she be? A Weirwood?!_ All anyone would have to do to find answers would be to poke around the northern camp long enough to see who had been missing, and who matches the Mystery Knights description _._

_Oh Gods! If I can tell that it’s Lyanna, there’s no doubt the prince knows as well._

 He glanced toward the royal box, and sure enough the prince sat in his seat, going over the motions just as he’d been. Only the prince had been sitting straight at attention, a smile playing on his lips.

  _How can he smile about this?_

Ned wanted to hide his head in his hands. No matter what happened here today, he was sure it wouldn’t end good. Instead, he placed his hand in Ashara’s and squeezed. She looked at him and squeezed back.

 “Ned, is everything alright? Ashara asked. He couldn’t lie to her, and he couldn’t say the truth aloud: so instead he promised to tell her after the tourney. Seeming to accept this, Ashara smiled and together, they sat back and watched the Mystery Knight as she unhorsed first Ser Porcupine, then Ser Pitchfork.

 Finally, in her most trying challenge she managed to unseat Ser Two-towers, after seven passes, but taking a hit on the forth pass. Miraculously she managed to stay in her seat and she recovered quickly and finished him in their last round.

 When the time came to ransom their belongings, the Mystery Knight demanded that they teach their squires honor and that should suffice. Once she was satisfied, true to her word, she returned their belongings, and left the field. In her wake, the crowd cheered loudly for the Knight if the Laughing Tree.

 Everyone aside from him, all Ned could do was wonder about what it would mean if the King were ever to find out Lyanna was the Mystery Knight.

 He turned his attention back to his lady. “Would you care to take a walk with me?”

 “Absolutely.” She answered without a second thought.

 He then turned to Benjen, who hadn’t said a thing. “You will go with Brandon back to camp, and when I get back, we are going to talk about all this, hmm?” To the pups credit, he’d already known what awaited him, so he just nodded his agreement and went to stand beside Brandon. He turned back to his lady and offered her his arm, leading her from the tourney grounds.

 

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

 Once he was sure that his father had gone, Rhaegar made for the castle grounds. Not quite knowing where he was going, he decided to let his mark guide him, Arthur and Oswell, his ever not-so-silent shadows.

  It was only a few moments before Rhaegar knew where they were heading. Stopping, he turned to his knights, “Oswell, I need you to do me a favor. Go to the stables and get Smoke and Winter, Lyanna’s mare. Bring them back here to the godswood . Arthur, with me, but only as far as the tree line.”

 Arthur simply cocked a brow at him. Rhaegar knew the look of his friends silent question, and let out an exasperated sigh. “Do I really have to explain everything to you? Would it not be more simple to just trust me?” Again another cocked brow from Arthur.

 Perhaps Arthur was right. The request sounded ridiculous the moment it passed through his lips. “Don’t answer that, just—, Hells just trust me.”

 Arthur rolled his eyes for dramatic effect, “As you command, Your Grace.” Oswell too, accepted his task, and soon they split off each going in the direction of their missions.

 As Arthur and Rhaegar made their way through the Godswood, he kept his ears tuned into his surroundings. Hoping for any indication of where Lyanna may have gone, but he heard nothing.

 As they neared the treeline, Rhaegar turned to Arthur, but his friend simply nodded in understanding of his orders, knowing he was to progress no further. He returned the gesture in thanks, and then began his journey onward.

 Not before long, Rhaegar had broke through the trees, just opposite of the Weirwood that was the life of this ancient grove of trees, but to his disappointment, Lyanna wasn’t there.

Well, she wasn’t by the Weirwood, but she was definitely _there,_  within the wood. The question was where? Rhaegar began testing the link, attempting to see what all this thing could do, but as it turned out, it wasn’t much more than an increase or decrease in sensation, and he could only assume it was because they hadn’t formally sealed their link.

 However, before he gave up, and was about to call for her, help came from the most unlikely of places; a crow. He was just about to yell her name, when the thing came swooping down from the branches of the Weirwood, almost colliding with his head. Rhaegar had hardly a moment to jump out of the way before the bird leveled out and croaked “ _Queen_ ” before flying deeper into the trees.

 Rather than question it, he followed. The tingling in his wrist growing stronger and stronger as he went. Until he found himself approaching a stream that ran naturally through the godswood. It was here that he’d found her.

 Resting, just inside the stream, dressed only in her shift, Lyanna sat on the edge of the water, cleansing the injury Rhaegar knew she’d sustained in her last match.

Her hair was down, around her shoulders, her back to him. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.

 “I was wondering how long it would take you to come for me.” She called before he could say a thing.

 He braced himself, caught off guard by her words. “So you planned this then?” Not quite sure if it was incredulity he was feeling or whether he was flattered by her admission.

 “Of course not, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware of you knowing that I was the Mystery Knight. I should think you knew the moment I rode into the yard,” she confessed. Though she made no move to turn and face him as she spoke. Not that it would have done any good, Rhaegar was completely paralyzed. He swallowed, trying to think of what to say, but was quickly disarmed once again as she stood from the water and turned toward him. Images passing through his mind of the dream from the night previous.

 He knew he was done for the moment her eyes locked with his. Surely she knew the effect she had on him, for the smirk on her face was nothing short of wicked.

 “Lyanna—,” he turned away from her. Remembering his actions from this morning, and feeling ashamed once more for desiring her so. “Perhaps you should dress,” Gods knew he didn’t want her to, but he couldn’t bare to look at her in such a state. Her shift had been drenched, clinging to her skin greedily, the darkness of her hair in contrast to her milky skin, free and wild, the very definition of her character, the pink buds of her nipples hard, and visible just under the fabric of her shift. Her cheeks were flushed, no doubt from the exertion of the joust, and Rhaegar wished that he had been the one to make her flush that way. She had a wild look of determination about her.

 “Does it not please you to look upon me?” She almost sounded hurt, but he could not bare to turn and face her.

 He clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated by her question.

  _How does she not see what she is doing to me?_

 _“_ Are you truly so cruel that you would tempt me so mercilessly, and then mock me for being respectful of your wishes?” The words flew from his mouth before he could stop them, and they did not end there.

 “I want you Lyanna, Gods how I want you! But you told me you were not ready, and I’m doing my very best to restrain myself. Every fiber of my being is urging me to make the move, to claim you now, whether you agree or not. Is that what you want from me? To do to you what Robert would have done, had you tested his resolve in such a way?”

  _How does she not see how difficult this has been?_

 “Mock you? I do not mock you, My Prince,” his title hardly audible coming from her lips.

 “No? Then tell me Lyanna, how is it I should respond right now? You are mine as I am yours, yet you forbid me to claim you. You tell me to wait, and so I am. And now you have the nerve to accuse me of not desiring you?” He turned this time, forgetting his resolve to not look at her, only to find that Lyanna was mere inches from him. He need only close the distance.

 “So you do want me?” Lyanna asked him in an almost inaudible whisper.

 “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything as much as I desire you, Lyanna.” He clenched his jaw once more, his eyes roaming over her flesh involuntarily.

 “And it isn’t the mark that makes you feel this way?” Her voice low, her eyes pleading.

 Rhaegar had to think a moment, “I suppose that I don’t know the correct way to answer this question. If I say that it has nothing to do with the mark, would you take me at my word if I offered no explanation?”

 Lyanna thought a moment before replying. “I suppose I would question it if you didn’t explain.”

 He nodded, “I thought as much,” he said.

 Her face fell, she must have thought he had meant to say no more on the subject.

 He chuckled before he went on, “So I suppose I should find a way to articulate my thoughts on the matter.”

 Lyanna smiled, “Well, you should hurry up then because I’m wet, and I'd very much like to hear your answer.” She commanded him.

_Never a dull moment indeed…_

 He untied his cloak and handed it over. “Please, if you insist on standing there next to naked, at least put my cloak on so that you don’t _actually_ end up sick.”she sighed, taking his cloak, and wrapping it about her shoulders.

 Satisfied that she was now covered, Rhaegar thought about his reply. He wasn’t sure that his answer would earn him any favor with Lyanna, but he had to hope that honesty would please her more than flattery.

 “I can’t say that the mark has no effect on the way I feel for you, because the mark has everything to do with it. The morning that I awoke to my mark. I had dreamt of eyes the color of Valyrian steel rimmed by silver—, your eyes. I dreamt of a fierce she-wolf, and then I met one—, you. I watched a girl, fend off three squires from attacking a boy whom she hardly knew, with nothing to gain save the friendship of a boy, and the scorn of her kingdom, yet I only saw this because my mark told me you were nearby.”

  “I’ve gotten to know you through my dreams. Dreams made possible, because of these marks. And I hope this isn’t too much, but I believe I’ve also seen the faces of our future children through these marks.” Her eyes went wide at this, but he was not finished.

  “I met a girl the other night, kissed by moonlight, who opened my eyes up to theological truths that I’d never considered before, I met a girl who does not sit by and allow social injustices to go unanswered for. I met a girl who doesn’t conform to gender norms, but instead chooses to fight back against them.”

 “In truth, I think I envy you. I certainly admire you, you are the epitome of what a knight should be. A defender of the weak, protector of the innocent. You stood up to my cousin, who was easily double your size, but never once did you cower before him. And just a bit ago, you rode before the King as a Mystery Knight, knowing, had you been unhorsed, it could have caused problems for you, and for your family. Yet you did it anyway, I suspect, because it was the right thing to do.”

 “All of these reasons, only speak to your character, and, of that, Lyanna, I would change nothing.”

 She smiled then, but he was not finished. “Of your nature, you are wild, and fearless, but also steadfast, willful, and determined; loyal and I daresay deadly. People will follow you for all of those reasons but you also appear to be compassionate, and for that people will love you,” he paused, here was the hard part, for this was entirely new to him.

 “I desire you Lyanna, God's do I desire you.” He raked his hand through his silver platinum locks. “I’d never felt desire before I laid eyes on you.” He confessed finally.

  “I never desired Elia, and I only bedded her twice out of duty.” He paused, hoping that his admission did not ruin the moment. But she said nothing, so he took it as a positive sign and continued.

 “I do not feel the need to bed you for duty, Lyanna. I desire you, because I desire to please you. To care for you, mind body and spirit. I want to worship you, to hold you close to me, to inhale your scent, and taste your skin.” His eyes were searching hers, traveling down her frame. Regretting for a small moment having given her his cloak.

 He continued his litany, “Your full lips are a trap, your milky white skin calls to me, your hair, my fingers yearn to run through your dark tresses; and none of this Lyanna, has anything to do with the mark.” It was true. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he was certain he was on the verge of going mad.

 “I heard a rumor,” Lyanna responded at last, looking contrite as she spoke.

 “You heard a rumor?” Not sure where this was going, or where it had come from, Rhaegar chose to indulge her.

 “Aye, I heard a rumor that there would be something happening tonight. Though, I’m not sure how to explain it. Would you care to join me to witness it?” She asked.

 Curious, Rhaegar couldn’t help but to accept. “I would join you for absolutely no reason, you need only tell me where you should like to meet with me and I would be there.” He smiled reassuringly to her.

 “My tent should suffice, after the feast. I shall be there awaiting your arrival.” Lyanna stated.

 Confused, he arched a brow at her, “Will you not be at the feast then?”

 “Nay, I was sick today, remember?” She teased.

  _Of course she won’t be at the feast._

“Then I only wish I could join you sooner.” He confessed. And then suddenly he remembered his father, and he knew he could not avoid telling her about last night any longer.

  “Lyanna, I have some things that I need to speak with you about. . . Regarding my father.”

 Lyanna seemed skeptical at first, but then she nodded for him to continue. “Last night, my father overheard Arthur and I talking about Robert and you, and he revealed that he had known about your perspective betrothal. He said he was aware of the implications and that the match did not please him.” Lyanna’s eyes went wide with shock.

 Rhaegar had a feeling she was about to overreact, so he made to ease her suffering by pushing forward. “Please, be calm, ‘tis not all bad. I revealed to him that your Lord Father has placed the match on an indefinite hold, and the king at once decided to forbid it. Do you understand? By royal decree, Robert can not claim you.” Clear relief washed over her face, but he could see she knew he was not finished.

 “But?” She asked.

 “But there was another stipulation,” he sighed, knowing that this part would have the biggest impact on her. “The King wanted to call you to court to, “ _keep an eye on you,”_ he saw her about to protest so he hurried on.

 “But, I refused to leave you to his mercy, so I proposed that you come to Dragonstone to serve as one of Elia’s “ _Ladies,”_ Lyanna scrunched her face up at the idea.

 “I’m sure Princess Elia would not want me as one of her Ladies. I’m hardly a proper Lady as it is, and I have no intentions to change who I am to please other people.” she blurted out, clearly thinking that this was a choice and not a command from the King.

 “Relax Lyanna, you would not serve Elia. Technically as my wife you would outrank her, and if you would rather my knights attend you rather than your own Ladies…” he teased, imagining Arthur and Oswell at Lyanna’s beck-and-call. “In truth, you will be the one in need of your own Ladies, but this was just a suggestion I presented to the King once he mentioned summoning you to King's Landing, which is in no way, a safe place for you.” He could see her understanding, though she said nothing. “I think the king will be announcing this within the next few days, and I did not wish for you to be thrown off guard by this news.”

 Rhaegar watched her face, as she worked through all that she’d just heard. He wouldn’t blame her if she sent him away. He’d single handedly managed to rearrange her life in a matter of days. And technically, he had no right too. They weren’t a secure link, not yet.

 When she finally spoke, to his shock, she did not sound angry. “Will I have to go to Dragonstone directly from here? Or will I at least be able to see my home again before you take me?”

 She wasn’t mad, she was scared, he realized. His heart broke. How could he expect this of her? How could he ease this pain that she would inevitably feel once the time came for her to be Queen, and remain in King's Landing indefinitely? He started to reach for her then, but quickly remembered why he couldn’t, so he let his arm drop back to his side.

 Lyanna’s eyes were fixed on his movements, but she made no indication of her intent to avoid contact as she had the previous day, and Rhaegar felt a small bubble of hope spring to life in his chest.

  _What is she waiting for?_

 _“_ I do not intend to take you from your father and brothers. Not right away.” He confessed. “The truth is, I need to speak with your father, and I have been in the process of arranging this meeting.”

  He sighed, remembering that it's easier to catch flies using honey rather than vinegar. He would need to ask her permission and her opinion rather than order her about and make decisions for her.

 “I was hoping to travel to Winterfell immediately following the tourney, but I need to see Elia and Rhaenys back to Dragonstone. I do not wish to leave my daughter in the clutches of my father for any length of time.” Lyanna nodded her understanding, but he hadn’t finished yet. “I do not wish to be parted from you Lyanna, not even for a few weeks. So this is my dilemma; now that the king has called for you, or will call for you to serve, he won’t be on board with you returning north without an escort. And I will not tolerate any of my father's men alone in your company. It is my hope that both you and your brother Ned would accompany myself and my party back to Dragonstone, and from there we can sail straight to White Harbor…” he didn’t fail to notice how hopeful his tone sounded to him.

 “But you promise we will sail right away? You swear you will take me to my father?” Lyanna asked him beseechingly.

 “I do, I would not lie to you, not if I can help it, this I swear.” And he would do everything in his power to remain transparent with her.

 Lyanna seemed to believe his words, because the next words to fall from her lips were as unexpected as they were welcome. “I accept your terms, and—, I accept you.” She reached out, closing the distance between them, and took his hand into her own, and for just a moment, Rhaegar was sure time itself had stopped. There was no noise to be heard, no birds chirping, even the stream went still. All that was left was Lyanna, standing before him, her hand firmly grasping his own, and then he was swallowed by visions.

  _The Gods Eye lay before him, the thief high in the sky. Lyanna’s lips were pressed against his own. Three babes, two silver, like him, one Dark like Lyanna. A Weirwood, old, silent, and brooding before a still pool. Direwolves roaming the lands south of the Wall, Dragons flying over the land. A battle being fought on the Trident, his mother, the Queen holding a little girl. Blue eyed corpses fighting against the armies of the living. Harrenhal, not this Harrenhal, but a different one. Rebuilt, and bustling with activity… two gates, one covered in Ice, the other wreathed in Fire—,_

When Rhaegar at last regained consciousness, he found Lyanna still there, holding onto his hand.

“Did you see that too?” He asked her, nervous that he was going _mad_ , unsure if what just happened was a symptom of the bond or a dragon dream.

  _Their marks!_

 Quickly, Rhaegar’s eyes shot to their combined hands, and then back up to Lyanna’s eyes. When they met, indigo on steel-grey and silver, he found she was smiling.

 “I did see that. Would you like to talk about it?” She asked, though Rhaegar was pretty sure she was teasing him over his reaction.

 Truthfully, he had wanted to talk about it, but not right now. Right now there was something more important he needed to do before anything else happened.

 Gathering his courage, he pulled her to him, taking her face between his palms. “I’d like to kiss you.” He confessed.

 She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before she responded, which caused Rhaegar’s blood to boil. “So what are you waiting for? Or do I have to be the one to make all the first moves in this relationship?” She challenged.

 He did not wait for her to change her mind, before his lips came crashing down upon hers, pulling her firmly against his chest. He kissed her as if his life depended on it, and perhaps it did. There was nothing sweet, nothing tender to it, this kiss was meant to claim, and so he claimed her. Pulling her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking gently before releasing it. Before Lyanna could reciprocate, he felt himself pulling away.

 Her eyes were glassy, her lips pouting. She was flushed in the cheeks and she had a wildness in her eyes. “Why did you stop?” She was indignant. Rhaegar chuckled, realizing that she hadn’t lied when she had said she was equally affected by her mark.

 “Lyanna,” he began, “do you think that was easy for me? I’ve never felt like this before, my baser instincts have never taken center stage, up until this moment. Nay, I cannot allow that, not yet. This mark, makes us _One,_ but I would swear myself to you first regardless.”

 And then realization of what he’d just said, hit him because he grabbed her hand once more, and turned it to reveal her mark. Where once there had been a singular blue Direwolf, now there was a silver dragon intertwined at the neck with her wolf. A perfect balance of Ice and Fire, as their temperatures mixed and danced over the surface of her skin.

 _Balance…_ he ran his thumb across her mark.

 “It’s beautiful…” he finally managed to breathe out.

 “It is indeed,” Lyanna agreed.

 He wasn’t sure how long they had been standing there watching their union play out on their flesh, but eventually he became alerted to footsteps approaching.

 “Lyanna, I think you should get dressed. There’s someone coming, I’m going to see who it is.” She nodded once, and he turned in the direction of the disturbance.

 Once he was within the canopy of the trees, he called out. “Who comes? Announce yourself.”

 “Be easy, My Prince,” a familiar voice called back, ‘tis only I, Oswell, and the Lady Lyanna’s companion Lord Howland.”

 “Hold your position, we will come to you both in but a moment's time.” He called back to them. Turning back toward the stream. He found Lyanna lacing her breeches.

 “Lord Howland approaches with Ser Oswell.” He informed her, knowing they were soon to part ways. “The King believes you to be sick, and has instructed me to see to your wellbeing, would you care to let me escort you back to camp?”

 She didn’t look like she was quite ready to return, but she nodded her ascent anyway. “I suppose it cannot be helped.” She tugged again at her bottom lip, hesitating. “Only, do you have to leave so soon after you bring me back? It’s going to be a long night for me.” She pouted.

 He almost laughed. “Ah, my willful Lyanna, one day you will learn, every choice has a cost and a reward or punishment, depending on perception of course. On the one hand. The reward for you will be; no dresses, no pretending with the other Lords and Ladies, and no Robert to stalk you through the Great Hall. While I suppose the punishment for your mummery could be whatever you choose to apply it to. Personally, I would love to be unable to attend the feast, I’d most likely use the time to read,” he mused aloud.

 Lyanna snorted, “I already did that, I could introduce you to my friend Septon Barth if you change your mind.” She teased.

 Rhaegar couldn’t believe what she’d just said. As nonchalant as could be. _Had she no idea what she just said?_

 _“_ Lyanna, you can't mean, The Septon Barth, ‘ _Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: The Unnatural History.’_ It’s impossible!”

 Obviously this had no effect on Lyanna, because she simply laughed. “Calm yourself, it’s just an old book I found in the library at home.”

 He could not relax, he wanted to go back to Lyanna’s tent with her and shut them both away until he was done pouring over the pages.

 “Lyanna, two things.” He waited, and she nodded. “First, do not let anyone near that book, especially another maester. Secondly, if this book you have is a complete copy, it is one of few, if not the only, whole copy in the Seven Kingdoms, if not the entire known world. Do you understand? Baelor ordered the books be destroyed while he was King. No one has had a complete copy in centuries.”

 Lyanna snorted, “I should love to see your face should any other hidden treasures be found in the library in Winterfell in that case. I suspect we have a great many tomes the citadel would love to get their hands on in Winterfell.”

 Rhaegar’s head began to swim at the mere implications of what could be hiding in her ancestral home. It made him wonder what else could be hiding in Dragonstone...

 Once she had donned her cloak and passed his back to him, she linked her hand in his, and his chest swelled. She felt perfect to him. When she touched him, the piece of him he’d always felt missing was suddenly whole. As if he’d been waiting for her specifically his entire life.

 “We should do something about your armor,” he suggested. “I do hope this was a one time thing? At least in this tourney…,” he prodded.

 Lyanna blushed, “Aye, I've no plans to face Brandon on the morrow, or you, I daresay.”

 He grinned, “My Lady, ‘tis not I that you should fear, Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan are yet to take the field. I’ve yet to unhorse Barristan the Bold.” It was true, but he had a surprise in store for the old knight. He had a task to complete before he could make this official.

 “Well then, My Prince, I wish you good fortune in the matches to come.” She said in her most solemn tone. Trying to keep the smirk off her face.

 They stepped into the woods, walking toward where Rhaegar had left Oswell and Howland, and it wasn’t long before they saw their figures standing beside Smoke and Winter. Once they were in earshot, he called to his knight. “Oswell, could you and Lord Howland see that the Lady Lyanna’s belongings are properly discarded before we vacate the woods?”

 “At once, My Prince,” Oswell replied, glancing toward Howland who was standing beside the Chestnut palfrey Lyanna had ridden in the joust.

The Crannogman smiled back and gestured for Oswell to follow. “It would be a pleasure to assist, I know just the place.” He replied as they went.

 Once they were gone, Rhaegar turned back to Lyanna. “I will try to leave the feast as soon as I can, perhaps Elia can create a distraction,”his mind was working overtime to compensate for the time they would be spending apart. “Would you consider taking up a temporary room within the castle? You don’t have to use it, but you could if you wanted to… both Elia and Ashara have chambers within the Keep, I could request to have you placed close to them. It would certainly please my father, and he may not be inclined to press matters if you show some willingness to comply.” The look on her face was sour. And he understood that the language he’d used was less than savory, so he tried again.

 “Lyanna, I do not mean that you will just lay down to do the King's bidding. What I mean is that we should both _appear_ to be doing so...

 Please remember that everything I do, everything we will do, will be for the benefit of us, and our families, as well as the betterment of the realm. But for now, everything we do has to appear to be at the king's command. I hope you understand. My father has his sycophants everywhere, and until I can put everything in place, no one in the realm is safe. Not even me, his son.” He hated the idea of scaring her away, but the alternative would be to allow her to be ignorant to the danger his father poses. No one should be exposed to his father and be ill prepared.

 “Rhaegar, please relax. I’m aware of your father's reputation, and regardless of my willful nature, I am a daughter of the North. My father would hardly tolerate any insolence on my part in private, let alone before the realm. Even though I may not conform to gender norms, does not mean I do not understand the place of women in society, as much as the idea disgusts me.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s not as if you have to worry on this tonight, so can you please just tell me something that will make me smile before I am forced to leave you to the monsters?” She joked.

 Something that will make you smile? Hmm— Well, I may have dreamt of you last night,” he could feel the heat rising up his cheeks, and his eyes fell shyly just before she could reply.

 “Oh? A dream you say. How curious, I dreamt of you as well. I’ll make a deal with you, tell me of your dream tonight, and I’ll tell you of mine,” her voice was low, but her interest was piqued, and now his was too.

 When Oswell and Howland returned, Rhaegar helped Lyanna up into her saddle, due to the hit she’d taken earlier, and just before she departed, she leaned down and kissed him deeply. An unspoken promise to wait on him. He knew it even though the words never came to confirm the meaning. He pulled away from her, and lifted her _inked_ wrist to his lips, and kissed the cooling fire of their combined marks.

 “Until later.” He promised before turning toward Smoke. “Are you ready to return to your self imposed captivity, My Lady?” The look on her face was murderous, and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from him.

 “My Winter Queen, shall we be away?” He corrected. Trying to conceal his mirth. At this she turned her mare from him and called back, “I’ll race you to the exit.” And then she was in the wind.

 

* * *

**The Stag-Lord**

* * *

 

 What a fucking night he’d had! First Ned, then the wine and somewhere between then and now, he’d ended up with Cersei Lannister in his bed.

 He didn’t remember much. One moment he was ready to kill his inbred cunt of a cousin, the next his best friend almost took his head from his shoulders.

 Of course the details were fuzzy still, but he remembered bits and pieces. The Maester at Winterfell was playing the middleman, two girls exiting his tent, failure to show up at Lyanna’s race, and something else. Oh yes _‘Answer_.’ He wants answers!

_What the Seven hell’s set him off?_

He wasn’t sure it actually mattered anyway, Ned could never hold a grudge against him for too long.

If Ned was concerned with the amount of attention he paid Lyanna, he would do better. Starting today, and no one would have to know the truth about Cersei.

 Once he had washed and dressed, he exited his tent, making his way to the tourney grounds. Where with any luck, Lyanna would already be. He could see it now, she would be there with Ned and Brandon, and that little shit that follows Lya everywhere, and he would ask permission to join her, and Ned would see how much he wanted to try.

 He felt better already. Just being out of his pavilion made all the difference in the world. Plus, the sky was blue, and the sun was shining, omens don’t get better than this.

 He was just approaching the Godswood when he heard her voice. She was inside the grounds, but she wasn’t alone.

  _No matter, surely she would be happy to talk with me._

But just as he readied himself to walk toward the entrance, she emerged from inside on the back of her horse. The other boy that had taken to Lyanna was riding beside her on a brown palfrey, but it was not the boy she was conversing with.

 Robert took a few steps backward into the shadows, and watched. Just as she was exiting the woods, another horse and rider emerged from within. And his breath caught in his throat.

  _I fucking knew that cunt was behind this!!!_

 She was alone, in the woods with no one else for companionship save that dragonspawn! If Robert had his warhammer he’d cave the bastards chest in, then he would make him watch as he claimed Lyanna in front of him, so that he knew who she belonged to.

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

 Lyanna was having a hard time believing her luck.

 She had been prepared for yelling, or even disgust after everything she had been taught about southern women, and their customs, as well as the many times she had been scolded by maester Walys for not behaving like a proper lady, she had been prepared for something more than mere indifference, but _not_ reverence, acceptance and praise.

_He’s like a prince from one of those southern songs…_

 She found herself thinking of the fierce dragon Queens who helped to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. Of Visenya, who wielded Darksister, and Rhaenyra who would have been the first Queen of Westeros in her own rights.

  _When had the realm forgotten that women are just as capable of keeping the peace, and delivering justice?_

 She looked at her wrist admiring her now complete mark, she couldn't help but to find it beautiful. _This mark guarantees I will be the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms one day, and from what I can tell, I will rule beside a King who won't seek to suppress my nature, but rather, he’ll nurture it._

 Her choice had been easy after that, and she did not regret making it, for she would do it again, and again.

 Looking around her tent, she tried to settle on an activity to keep her distracted until he would return, but quickly realized that her options were severely limited.

  Instead, she found herself thinking of Rhaegar’s offer to take up chambers within the castle, and in truth she had been offered chambers, as had her brothers when they had arrived, due to their status as the children of the Warden of the North, but they had politely declined them. Opting instead to set up camp with their men.

 _The pack is strongest when they stick together._ Her father's voice echoed in her head… and she knew that it applied to the Northmen who came with them too.

  Though this was different, she didn't have to sleep there, but it wouldn't hurt to have a room to escape to if she had a need of it. The other benefit to taking up chambers in the castle is that no one could gain access to her while she was there unless she so wished it, unlike here where anyone who the northmen deem as safe would easily be able to access her tent.

_Perhaps I shall accept…_

 She found herself wondering what her father would say about all of this. She should have told him about her mark last year when it showed up, she knew that now. Though it would have done little to change the current outcome.

  _But it could have went miles to stop this nonsense with Robert…_ a small voice whispered to her.

 What’s more, had she been honest with her father about the mark, he would have sought to find out if Robert had been her match, and would have dismissed the offer the moment it was revealed he was lacking. Even though her father still sees her as a child from time to time, he had never doubted her connection to the Gods, and he would have taken her mark and Ned’s seriously.

  _Gods how stupid had she been?_

 Nevertheless she was certain, keeping her father's maester in the dark was the right choice. But she should have trusted her father, she should have included her pack. The thought made her ashamed and she resolved to do better from now on.

  
 Settling into her cot, suddenly she felt exhausted from the excitement of the afternoon. Knowing it would be a while before anyone called on her, she decided to take a nap. Eyes already heavy, she drifted off easily enough, and while she slept she dreamt.

  
  _She was walking through a forest that felt familiar to her, pale light filtering through the canopy. She spun around, taking in her surroundings she inhaled the air. She was home, in the Wolfswood._

_Why?_

_Suddenly and almost as if in answer, she heard a wolf howl and a shiver ran down her spine. Her feet began to pull her forward on their own. She was but a witness to whatever the Old Gods were trying to show her. Another call broke through the silence, this one closer, and higher in pitch. She continued forward climbing a small hill, until she crest the ridge that opened up into a shallow valley. Below her, the land was dotted by small bodies, wolves she realized. Not wolves—, Direwolves. The dream shifted._

_Now she was walking among a great grove of ancient weirwoods, the air was thick and pulsing around her. The magic of the Old Gods was stronger here than in any other Godswood she had ever been... She was being pulled toward the center of the island where the largest weirwood she had ever seen stood in silent witness. Somehow, she knew that this tree was the World Tree Howland had spoken of._

_But why was she here?_

_On cue, the roots of the tree began lifting from the earth, twining around themselves until finally they assumed the shape of an altar. Upon the altar sat a bowl and inside the bowl, were hundreds of red pods. Seeds—, she realized._

_Behind her, a disembodied voice spoke. “The land and the people need the trees if we are to survive the wars to come. Claim the seeds. Claim them through Ice. Claim them through Fire…”_

_A cup made of bronze appeared in her hands, inside a thick red liquid. “Drink from the cup of Ice, drink from the cup of Fire.” She had no idea why, but she raised the cup to her lips, and tilted it upward, drinking deeply. The liquid was thick and bitter at first, but soon it changed to sweet and smoky and before she knew it, the cup was empty._

_What did I just drink? She asked aloud to no one in particular._

_“You need to see, you need to awaken, you need to embrace the Ice so that you can embrace the Fire.” A disembodied voice called to her._

 When she woke up, it was to Ned, Bran and Ashara who had all been standing around her with looks of concern etched onto their faces. “Why are you all looking at me like that?” she questioned.

 “You were tossing and turning  Lya, mumbling incessantly about Ice and Fire.” Brandon was the one to answer.

 She sat up, thinking about what she’d just seen in her dreams, and she almost thought to dismiss them as nothing, but then she remembered her promise to do better, to include her _pack._  So she gathered her thoughts before she began to share everything with her three pack-mates; The two of her blood, and the one the God’s chose to walk beside her and her brother. When she had finished her depiction, Brandon and Ned sat before her with looks of disbelief on their faces. Seeing this, she decided she had to say something to bring them back.

 “I do not know how much of this is happening now, or if it was in the past, or if it is something yet to come..Though if I am being honest, when I looked up into the sky it felt like it was happening in the same timeline we are in now. I think that there are direwolves south of the Wall Bran, and what’s more they seem to be gathering, but I couldn't make out why,” she confessed.

  _If only I had a way to know for sure…_ and just like that she realized that there was someone who could confirm it, though not right away. But if anyone knew, it would be her father. There would be no possible way for that many direwolves to conceal themselves for any great length of time.

  
 “Brandon, do you think you can send a raven to father? Surely if there are direwolves lurking in the Wolfswood, father would have heard about it Bran.” She could feel herself getting excited at the thought of seeing a real Direwolf. Even though they were not pets, she knew that they were not there to harm them, they saw her as she had seen them, she wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she was certain.

 “Aye, I think I should. I have yet to respond to the message I received yesterday, and with the rookery open for secure communication I am sure this is something he will want to know of. Plus, we should tell him about you and Ned.” Brandon supplied.

  
 At that, Lyanna paled, remembering everything else she still hadn’t shared with her _pack._ She swallowed, preparing herself for the next bit of news she was about to lay upon her brothers. “Yeah, um Bran. About all that, there's more I need you all to know. The first thing is, I made my decision, and this afternoon I sealed my link with the prince. Before you ask, I made the decision on my own, and the prince had no idea of my intent until it was done and over. You see, I lied this morning. I was never sick.” She may as well get the whole story out of the way all at once, so she pushed on. “I was the Mystery Knight and the prince knew it from the moment I rode out onto the field.” Beside her Ned flushed.

  
 “I knew it was you as well,” he confessed, “At least I suspected as much.” It wasn’t really that surprising now that he mentioned it. She nodded her understanding.

  
 “While I was attempting to rid myself of my armor and such, the prince found me, and confessed that he was commanded by his father to see to my wellbeing due to claiming I was ill.”

 She was about to continue but the Lady Ashara spoke up then. “I can assume where this is going and I assure the both of you, what she says is true, I heard all of this from the Princess Elia this afternoon.”

 “Right,” Lyanna continued, “the King was made aware of Robert's proposal, but had remained quiet because of father's silence on the matter, but after the second feast it came to the King, to forbid the match all together. He sees treason blossoming up between the North, the Vale and the Riverlands. With your fostering in the Vale, and Brandons betrothal to Catelyn Tully, it stands to reason that if father was successful in marrying me off to Robert he would then have the backing of four out of the Seven Kingdoms. Add to the fact that Lord Tywin Lannister and the King have not been on good terms for the past few years…” she didn't finish her thought, instead she waited and watched realization draw across their faces.

 “Rhaegar believes that his father will announce his decision to forbid the match within the next few days, but there is more than one announcement he will be making. It would seem that the King also believes it in the best interest of the crown, and myself no doubt, to call me to court to serve as a Lady in waiting, essentially making me a ward to the crown. However Rhaegar managed to convince him to allow me to come to Dragonstone to serve as a Lady to Princess Elia—, and before you say anything, I won't actually be serving as her Lady. But It's also not like I have a choice in any of this. Rhaegar did say that we will go North before he makes me move South full time.”

  For once, her oldest brother sat and took in all of this information in silence, it was unsettling. When he finally spoke it was with a cold detached calm. “I won't pretend that I'm okay with you being alone in the woods with the prince,” she was about to protest but he held up a hand to silence her. “But, I trust you enough to know that he could not have gotten near you if you did not so wish it. Secondly—, while I'm proud of you for protecting our _pack_. This isn't the time nor the place to have this discussion, but make no mistake, we will talk about this, and you will not be pulling anymore stunts like that for the rest of the time we’re here. Am I understood?”

 It wasn’t so much a question as it was a command, and even though technically she was a princess of the realm, now that she and Rhaegar had secured their bond, she decided not to push him. Instead she simply replied, “I understand.”

 “Good, lastly, I don't know who the hell that mad fucker thinks he is but I will kill him before I allow him or anyone to take you from home before you are ready. Do you hear me? I'll start a war to keep you safe.” She stiffened at his words. She could see Brandon begin to unravel in front of her. Thankfully, before she could say anything Ned spoke up.

 “Brandon, you need to calm down. Don't you think it best to not speak such things out loud? You already heard Lyanna, she won't be in King’s Landing, she’ll be on Dragonstone, where she’ll eventually have to go at any rate. Now that the God’s have marked us, our places are beside our bonded mates.” He took Ashara’s hand as he said it, and she smiled at the gesture. It made Lyanna think of Rhaegar.

 “Brandon,” Lyanna said, calling his attention back to her. “You know why we are all really here. So we all must do our parts, and if we play them correctly, soon the king won't be old and mad. We will have a new king, and he will be my husband, but first we need to write to father. He needs to know that I will wed the Prince and Ned will wed the Lady Ashara before we return home. Now that the links are complete, it makes little sense to wait. In the eyes of the Gods, it is done, but to the realm, the ceremony will be important. Also, I think I am meant to go to the God’s Eye before I depart Harrenhal. I think I am meant to do something important at the altar made from the World Tree. I can't explain it, but just saying it feels _right.”_ She looked to her brothers and then Ashara, hoping what she’d said had made sense to them.

 Brandon cleared his throat. “I'm not a lone wolf, and neither are you,” he replied. “We will do this together, and I will do my part. I swear.”

 She couldn't help the smile that split across her face at his words, or the loud rumble that came from her stomach at that moment. “Uh, sorry, I haven't eaten anything since midday,” she blurted out before anyone could say a thing, but no sooner had she said it, everyone burst out in a fit of laughter.”

 

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

   After seeing Lyanna back to her tent, and saying their final goodbyes, Howland offered to see him back to his camp, which Rhaegar found he was glad of. He hadn’t the opportunity to speak with the Crannogman one on one as of yet, and he wasn’t sure when next the opportunity would present itself.

  There were many things Rhaegar had wanted to ask the young Lord, but now that the opportunity was here, he hadn’t the slightest idea where to begin. Thankfully, the Crannogman took pity on him and spoke first.

 “I’ve given you many truths in the past days to consider. And I can only imagine you have questions…” he let his thoughts trail off before he continued. “You were born with a claim on your fate, do you regret having your eyes opened to destiny?”

 In truth, it was a fair question. At times he did hate knowing what was expected of him, but his destiny regarding the prophecy was no different than being groomed to be a King. Either way, his life did not belong to him. His destiny was not his own. Rhaegar had been born for the sole purpose of self sacrifice. He knew his answer.

 “If you are asking me whether I regret knowing the demand that was placed upon me from birth, and would have preferred to have grown up ignorant rather than enlightened, the answer is no and yes. Yes, because who doesn’t dream of what is denied them? And no because, what good will my ignorance serve but my own? No matter what I want, my life has never been my own. I’m the descendent of Aegon the Conqueror, and Jaehaerys the Old King. Blood of Valyria and the Dragon. My destiny was written before I was even born. I can no more change my fate than I can stop time from moving forward.”

 Howland seemed to consider his words a moment before he replied. “A wise answer, I should think. Very well, I will tell you what I know, but I must warn, destiny will find a way to play out. Regardless of our efforts to change it. We can choose a path, but that does not guarantee a different outcome. Do you understand?”

  Ironically, he thought that he did understand. “You are saying that one variable does not determine an outcome. For example, if I have a dragon dream about a particular event and the outcome is less than desirable, I can try to alter that eventuality, but there is no guarantee that my actions will have any effect on the final outcome, because they may have had little to do with the initial problem? Is that it?”

 “Indeed,” the Crannogman seemed pleased by his understanding, so he continued. “When I heard the call, it was the first time that the Gods whispered to me directly. My people have always had a sensitivity to the earth, and as the closest living descendants to the Green Men, we have a tighter bond to the Weirwoods than most of magical blood. Call us the last of the Gardner’s if you must, though if there is a relation it is indeed a much, much distant one. All the peoples of the North at one point had blood ties to the First Men who settled south of the Neck. But by the time their lines were extinguished, the blood connection was nearly non existent because it had been so diluted. However, one thing remained the same. The crown of winter roses, worn by the first Gardner King Garth the Greenhand. You see, The First Men were never a people for frivolous trinkets, and before the iron and bronze crown of the Winter King's, there was a much simpler choice, and one just as coveted. For winter roses only bloom but once a year, and are only known to grow in one place.”

 Rhaegar knew where that place was, and he also knew the reason Howland began his story where he did. The Crown of Winter Roses was the laurel he’d ordered be shipped from White Harbor. He’d chosen them because of his dream. And with winter being called recently, they were the most obvious choice. Of course he hadn’t known at the time that the Winter Rose would be a marker for his destiny. “I understand what you are saying to me.” Rhaegar admitted, hoping to move on to the next thing that was on the agenda.

 “Good, this is important, because when you crown her, so too will you seal your union before the God’s. You will know when it is time. Now, as to how I came to be your guide…”

_Finally, this is something he was most interested in knowing._

 “I was summoned to the Gods Eye you see, to view the Threads and study the Tapestry of Time _._ As it turned out, the Three-eyed Raven has been busy at work, doing in a sense what you and I are about to do.” Rhaegar gave him a confused look. For he seriously had no idea what they were about to do.

 “We are going to study the tapestry to see the path, the catch is, you can only observe. Do you understand?” Rhaegar nodded. “Good, it is not yet time for you to participate in the weaving of the tapestry, but I will do my best to prepare you.”

 “The Three-eyed Raven as I'm sure you’ve guessed is your ancient kin, Ser Brynden Rivers. Born the natural son of Aegon the IV. Brynden had been rumored to practice the dark arts, and it was whispered that he could share the skin of a one eyed dog among other things.”

 “What do you believe?” Howland asked.

 He had not been prepared for this question, in truth he never really had an opinion of him, only what he had heard, which in truth wasn’t much. His great grandfather had sent him to the Wall after the great council of 233 AC when he had lured Aenys Blackfyre back to Westeros with the understanding that he would be granted safe passage, but later on Aenys was executed by Lord Brynden upon his arrival. His crime was the breaking of guest right, kinslaying and compromising the integrity of the crown. A crime Aegon would not see him pardoned for.

  “I know what the histories tell us, and what my Uncle Aemon shares from time to time. I know that he served as hand to two kings before being sentenced to the Wall for kinslaying. I know that he was gifted Darksister, and he is the last living person to know her whereabouts. I know that he was the last person to see Bittersteel wield Blackfyre in the Third Blackfyre Rebellion of 219 AC in which Aegor went into battle, blade in hand, and was taken off the field in chains. And I know that within the past ten years, he disappeared beyond the wall.”

 “I suppose that is as good of a place to start as any.” The Crannogman admitted to no one in particular. “From what I understand you have the bones of his story, but I shall try to fill in the blanks, and knowing what you know right now, having seen the things you’ve seen, I suspect you will walk away with a better respect for your great-great granduncle than you have at the moment.” Rhaegar only nodded his agreement.

 “You see, many of your ancestors have had the gift of sight, which you call Dragon Dreams, but as you’ve learned, the First Men boast their own magical line. And it just so happened, when the blood of the dragon mixed with the blood of the ancient Warg King's, the magic within both lines resurfaced... Like you, the Old God’s marked him. Only rather than an _ink_ mark, they marked him to _see_ , and to fly and to merge with them to govern the realms of men, as he had done while faithfully serving two King's. Your ancestor was marked in the colors of the nameless ones, bone white skin, blood red eyes, and silver hair. And his power to see is the greatest anyone in millennia has seen. He can see through the eyes of the trees, he can see the past, the present and the future. He has seen what happens right in front of the trees, and he can see beyond them, all the way across the narrow sea, past the Jade Gates, and even deep into the Heart of Winter.”

 Rhaegar had no idea what he should think about all of this. He had no doubt in visions, but the idea that his ancestor had this power and hadn’t prepared them better for the Great War was beyond even his understanding. But he chose not to voice his concerns until after he had heard the entire tale.

 “You see, by the time Lord Brynden was sentenced to the Wall he was four-and-forty years of age, and he had been managing his gift with no mentor his entire life.”

  “To those who have never had the gift, his accomplishments may seem lacking, but from the day that King Daeron and Lord Brynden became as close as trueborn brothers, he had dedicated his life to securing the Targaryen rule. He used his ability to skinchange in a way that would allow him to be in multiple places at once. He may have had a one-eyed dog as his first animal companion, but eventually Lord Brynden mastered his gift, and began to experiment with other familiars, eventually moving on to cats, and birds, and even Direwolves. This is the truth to his many names, this is why he was given the name sorcerer by peoples of non-magical lines. Peoples who could not understand his abilities. Much like many of your ancestors have been labeled as _‘mad’_ due to their ability to see the future or the past in their dreams, and lacking the ability to interpret them.”

  Rhaegar was aware of the stigma that followed his ancestors, especially those who had made their visions public. He was also aware of the stigma that followed the people of the _North_ when it is suspected that a special bond is shared between man and wolf, or man and beast.

_Warg, Skinchanger, abomination._

  But if what Howland is suggesting is true, how different is a warg from his kin who were the blood of the Dragon, whose line had been able to bond with dragons, hatch them, and share their feelings and thoughts?

 “You are starting to see,” the Crannogman announced knowingly. The truth is, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but he couldn't deny the importance of the conversation. “The magic that runs through your veins is no different than the magic that runs through the veins of your ancestors. A deep ability to connect through the mind with a familiar.”

 “Only, the Valyrian Freehold is the heart of the Lands of Fire, while Westeros is the heart of the Lands of Ice. The First Men forged the bond with the creatures of their land, Mammoths, Direwolves, Shadowcats, Horses, Bears, Eagles, Boars, Ravens and so on... While the people who settled Valyria were the children of Fire, them who sought to bond with Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns.”

  Rhaegar was beginning to understand now. “So, what you are saying, and I do believe you have said before is, once our ancestors came to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, and began allowing the faith to dictate our marriage customs we began diluting our blood with non-magical bloodlines. Which has played a part in the loss of our ability to hatch and wake dragons. However, had we continued to only intermarry with those of our House, or those of other Houses with magical bloodlines, this would not have been an issue? Regardless of whether those Houses were the blood of previous Dragonlords, or the blood of the Warg King's?”

 “Yes, and no.” Howland stated matter-of-factly. “You see, Brynden was one of many attempts at binding the bloodlines of the Warg Kings and the Dragons, which did have it's own benefit, however, for all of Brynden’s gifts, Maekar still had no luck when he placed the eggs he had into the cribs of each of his children. Nor did your Great-Grandsire have  any luck when he placed his own egg into the crib beside your uncles and aunts. Even though his wife was also the blood of the Warg King, House Blackwood wasn’t enough you see. They too had diluted their blood over the centuries, and so the gifts they were given were far and few between,” he paused.

 “Do you know the two houses in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms who covet their bloodline?”

 Rhaegar thought about it a moment, he knew that his House was definitely one of them. And after everything he had heard, and all the fuss over him and Lyanna, he could only assume he meant House Stark. He nodded his confirmation.

 “House Stark and House Targaryen. Based on our previous discussion, I believe you are about to tell me that House Stark has the highest concentration of magical blood in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, and my family has been sleeping on it for near on three-hundred years. Am I close?”

 “Indeed.” Howland seemed very pleased with the progress of this conversation. “So, can you understand why Brynden Rivers is important to your current tale?”

 Rhaegar had to think a moment before he replied. “I would rather not draw assumptions, not when assumptions could cause more harm than good.” This answer seemed to please the young Lord.

  “You have good instincts, My Prince. There is no need to assume when you have a guide here to help along the way.” Howland took the time to gather his thoughts before he went on.

 “So, while Lord Brynden spent the majority of his youth fighting to keep House Targaryen on the iron throne, he did so, because he had insight that the rest of us did not have. He had seen the threat that is coming from beyond the Wall, he had seen the reason that Aegon the Conqueror decided to forge the Seven Kingdoms into One kingdom. He had seen the two who would bring forth Lightbringer, he saw much and more... It seems, to most folks for someone who had so much insight, it was foolish for him to take Aenys head after promising him safe passage, but it would be more likely that he did so, knowing that this choice would eventually take him North. And while he was on his way, he managed to convince your Great-Grand uncle to accompany him, leaving the throne for his little brother. Allowing for your line to sit the throne.”

 The pieces were starting to fall into place now. “So, if I understand correctly, Lord Bloodraven has been manipulating events throughout history in order to bring about a specific outcome?”

 Howland nodded his confirmation. “It was no secret that Aemon would have made a good king, but Aemon and Brynden both believed that Aegon was the best hope for the future of Westeros. He did not know that he had chosen the wrong Aegon, as has Westeros when they chose Aegon the I.

 Visions show an image, but they do not tell the tale. Of course an Aegon will eventually save the realm from darkness, or at least that is what the visions suggested, but for the past three-hundred years we have been looking for the wrong Aegon... Because at the end of the day, the accuracy of a vision is determined by the interpretation.”

 “Lord Bloodraven, knew that his path would eventually take him North beyond the Wall, and into the Lands of Always Winter. His path was meant to take him to the Singers, so that they could help him to see.”

 “Last year, before I received the Call, I believe that Lord Brynden finally saw what it was he needed to see, and that is when he sent for me. By the time I arrived at the Isle, the snow was just preparing to start falling. On my second day on the isle, I was greeted by a green man by the name of Root. He had been sent to escort me to the World Tree where I was first shown the Tapestry of Time. It was here that I first learned of the Song of Ice and Fire. The song I came here to witness.” His words sent shivers down Rhaegar’s spine. “I saw this song play out, in many different ways, but know that in every different timeline, you and Lyanna always found each other eventually. The only thing that is different about this timeline is the _Marks._ ” He stopped a moment for Rhaegar to catch up.

 “What do you mean that the only thing that is different in this timeline is the _Marks_? How many timelines are there, and does that mean that this is some type of test for the gods to see play out in real time?” Rhaegar wasn’t even sure if what he had said made any sense, but he was positive that every bit of suffering he had experienced throughout his life damn sure left real scars.

 “This timeline is real, but the past is already written, once the current timeline moves past a certain point, those who are God’s Marked can no longer edit the story. The ink dries the moment the words are cast into the universe so to speak. Because of this small detail, Brynden spent his time flying forward, looking into the future, before he realized that while the past may already be written, the future is still open for interpretation.”

  “I believe that the God’s sent you these marks, so that no one can question the bond between you and Lyanna, because you and she were always meant to find one another.”

 Something the Crannogmen said was rubbing him wrong. “What are you not saying to me? What happened in the alternate timeline that the Gods thought Marking us would help?”

 “What did I tell you about destiny?”

 “It will happen whether we are actively working toward it or not. What does this have to do with anything?” he was beginning to lose his patience.

 “You already know the answer to this, Prince Rhaegar. Tell me, do you think you love Lyanna because of your mark? Do you think that you would have had three children with Elia had the marks not appeared? Do you think that Lyanna would have found happiness with Lord Robert had she not been marked? What was the reason for this match between Lyanna and Robert in the first place?” he allowed these questions to sink in a moment before he finished. “The purpose was not to give Robert a blushing bride, My Prince. The purpose was to wipe out two major Houses who still have the magic of their forefathers running through their veins. House Targaryen and House Stark wiped from the pages of history. This coup will have nothing to do with you and Lyanna in the end. It will be due to the greed of powerful men, who want to become more powerful. Your connection with Lyanna is just the excuse that they will need to light the match.”

 Rhaegar couldn't even begin to process all he had just heard. And yet he could not deny the logic in this argument. “So if everything is going to happen as it should happen, what was the point of assigning us a guide?”

 “This is a simple enough question. My expertise will always be in keeping you on the right path, but never to make that choice for you. Only to provide you with all of the information you could need to make an educated decision. And through keeping you on the path, while also keeping you informed, you will know when to expect certain situations, and how to make the best of them.”

 “For example, if you fall, that may not mean you die, it could mean that you literally fell…” The young lord looked as if he wanted to add something else, but then decided better of it.

 “So, tell me then. In this other timeline, what is the fate of Lyanna and myself?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but if they were sent a guide to make sure the story continues, he would eventually have to reveal this information. Therefore he would not feel guilty for asking.

 “Your father sends his men to take Lyanna based on suspicion of treason for her role as the Mystery Knight, you ride to save her, and a third party tells Brandon that you kidnapped her and took her away. Brandon believes that you mean to rape her and dishonor her, because of your father's reputation and the relationship you and Lyanna developed here at Harrenhal, so he rides for the Red Keep demanding for you to come out and answer for your crimes; that you come out and die.”

 Rhaegar could feel the dread form in the pit of his stomach. He didn't need to hear the rest to know what happened next. “And what happened with Lyanna and myself?”

 “After Robert slew you on the trident, Lord Tywin sacked the city and Elia and her babes were murdered, and Lyanna died from complications of childbirth. Leaving behind your trueborn son Aegon to be raised as Ned’s bastard while Robert and Cersei rule from your father's throne. House Targaryen is almost extinct save one boy, and one girl. Eventually your son will go to the Night’s Watch, never knowing that you were his father, or Lyanna his mother. Ned will lose his head taking the secret to his grave. While your son will die, murdered by his own men for trying to save the people from certain death at the hands of the Others—,”

 He couldn't take it, “Stop—, I don't want to hear any more. Tell me that not all of this has to happen?”

 “Sadly, destiny is already certain. Some of these things can be avoided. Like Brandon calling for your head for stealing Lyanna. You and she have been marked by the God’s, no man holds a stronger claim to her than you do. In fact, a good portion of the war, that was built around the lie of you kidnapping and raping Lyanna will no longer be relevant to the current timeline. You should focus more on the real threat. The lie of Lyanna’s abduction was just a way for someone else to mask their true motives. It will be these motives that will push this tragedy forward. All you can do is be prepared for when these situations present themselves.

 Rhaegar wasn’t sure what to make of all this, he wasn’t even sure what he could do about any of this. “Lord Reed, when the tourney is over, Lyanna has agreed to travel south with me to bring Rhaenys home with Elia, and then I plan to sail North with her to Winterfell. You say that you are our guide, does that mean that I can count on you to join us in the south before we go north?”

 “I have business to tend to on Dragonstone, business that involves you, so yes, I will be with you for a while yet, fear not.” The Crannogman reassured him. Strangely, the idea of him staying close did bring comfort to him.

 

* * *

  **The Falling Star**

* * *

 

   That night at the feast, everyone seemed to be in great spirits, the talk was all about the Mystery Knight that had entered the lists in the second half of the day, and how he only demanded that their squires be taught honor as a payment of their ransoms.

 Many Ladies were heard chatting about what they thought he looked like, and whether he would place in the matches come the morrow.

 Ashara could care less about any of that, in truth, she was more interested to hear what the King had to say on the matter, but no information was forthcoming. The King had remained locked in his chambers until it was time to come down to the feast.

 He said nothing, save a few words to the Prince every now and again, but other than that, he just sat there, scanning the room, looking for Gods knew what or whom.

 As expected, Lyanna did not attend the feast, she had been sick this afternoon, though Ashara knew that to be untrue. Lyanna hadn’t attended the feast because she had entered the lists earlier, tricking her brothers into leaving her unattended, under the false pretense of being sick. And like most of those in attendance, Ashara would have been none the wiser, save for the fact that she shared her link with Ned, and he could not keep anything from her without her knowing he was hiding something. And from the moment her three challengers were announced, Ashara had noticed the way Ned had stiffened. It was not hard to figure out after that...

 It couldn't have been long after the food had been served that someone from across the hall started calling for the Mystery Knight to reveal himself. Next thing Ashara knew, Robert was on his feet swearing to unmask the Knight of the Laughing Tree the next day in the joust. Mocking the Knight as a craven for refusing to remove his helm. And before long, Ser Richard Lonmouth was calling out the challenge too.

 She supposed that it would not have been so bad, except the King had apparently been stewing about the identity of said Knight since the matches were called earlier that afternoon. So, upon hearing the oaths of Lords Baratheon and Lonmouth, and some of the other Storm Lords and Vale Lords, the King rose from his seat on the dais, and the room went still.

 The king had been inspired by these declarations apparently, so he made one of his own. “This Knight of the Laughing Tree is no friend of mine, I will reward whomever is able to unmask him!” The King decreed, and the rest of the night was filled by proclamations and empty promises to His Grace..

 Beside the King, Prince Rhaegar looked like he was about to murder Lord Robert, and beside her, Ned’s face was frozen in a state of calm fury. Ashara wasn’t sure what she could do to help ease these tensions. But she was sure that Ned and Rhaegar needed to speak.

 As much as she wanted to sit beside her intended and comfort him, she decided she would be better suited to her normal tasks… gathering information for the prince. So she excused herself, and began to make her way around the room, stopping at Oberyn to see if he would be inclined to assist her in her reconnaissance.

 As she had suspected, Robert hadn't even been in attendance during the joust, which meant that he was trying to create a scene. Either he knew something, or he was trying to draw out information. Richard, on the other hand was harmless, and very good at sticking to the role that the Prince had assigned him before the tourney actually kicked off.

 Something was off about Robert, he was even more off putting tonight than he typically was, in her opinion.

 And just like that, Ashara found that she understood why the Lady Lyanna had not been comfortable with the potential match.

  _I would have thrown myself from the Palestone Sword if I had been in her place…_

 After a few turns around the room, the Prince approached her and Oberyn and asked permission to cut in. Of course Oberyn gave him a hard time about it, claiming that he already has had his share of the women who are in attendance, before offering to spice things up for him. Ashara almost burst out in a fit of laughter when she saw the Princes face go from his pale as milk complexion to that of a crimson dragon.

 “Oberyn, I’m sure if the prince were so inclined you would be the first to know.” Ashara chided.

 “Perhaps the prince needs a bit of persuasion to be more inclined…” Oberyn lifted his eyebrows suggestively toward Prince Rhaegar, but made his way across the room toward his sister Princess Elia.

  _At least his intentions are in the right place._

 _“_ My Prince,” Ashara greeted.

 “Ash,” Rhaegar said her name the way a brother would. “I wanted to check in with you, see how things are going.”

 She arched a brow at him. “Oh really? Now you want to be my big brother again? Where were you ten months ago when I got my mark, and you decided to tell everyone on Dragonstone but me?” She hadn’t planned on unloading on him like that, but the truth was, it hurt her to think that he didn’t trust her enough to tell her. They could have figured things out together… but she wasn’t really cross at him. She just wanted to punish him a bit.

 “You have every right to be upset, but Ash, might I remind you that you could have shared your mark too? Regardless of whether or not you knew what it was, one day you had no mark, and the next day you did, surely that would have warranted a conversation with someone?” He pushed back.

  _He has a point… but I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of an easy win._

“So what do I truly owe the honor of this dance to?” She asked.

 Rhaegar hesitated a moment before he answered. “I’m going to the northern camp tonight after I leave here. Apparently there’s something happening and I told Lyanna I would come to witness it. Lord Reed claims it's important. Which I can only assume would include you and Ned as well.”

 She could see the hope show through his features. Such a rare sight for him. And just like that she knew she couldn’t deny him. “Very well, Ned and I will join you when you depart. Is there anything else?”

 “You are annoying sometimes.” He teased her.

Ashara just rolled her eyes, knowing that there weren't many times that she would be able to behave so freely with him.

 “And, I’ve asked Lyanna to come south with us before we go north to Winterfell, this way I can see Elia and Rhaenys back to Dragonstone safely. I was hoping that you planned to return with us.”

  In truth, she hadn’t even stopped to consider all the implications of her mark, or what that would mean for Ned, or where they would live.  She would go wherever he went, of that much she was sure.

 “I don’t honestly know what my plans are, I suppose this is something Ned and I need to figure out. This mark, means that I go where he goes from now on.”

 “That is all that matters. I plan to ask Ned to accompany his sister as well. In truth Ash, the four of us are special, the God’s have marked us for a purpose. And everything in me is saying that we need to stay close to one another. That there is safety in sticking together.” He didn’t need to say any more. She had felt it too.

 “Then for now, until we know more, we will stick together.” She gave him a reassuring smile.

“Now, when do we leave to see this thing?”

 “As soon as the King retires for the evening. Also, I was thinking, with this whole unmasking debacle... it may be best if Lyanna sits with Elia and you in the royal box tomorrow. Close by my father, that way he has no reason to question her whereabouts.”

 “Consider it done. I think you’re right. And I hear Robert plans to attend the joust tomorrow. It would probably be best to keep her away from where he has access to her. Though, have you not heard about the fall out between Ned and Robert last night?”

  _How had she managed to forget telling the prince?_

Rhaegar simply shook his head, “I saw them speaking as Lyanna was leaving the hall, and then I saw Ned walk away, but I have no clue the context of the conversation.”

 And so, Ashara spent the rest of her dance telling Rhaegar about how Cersei and Robert left the hall arm and arm, but only after Cersei had drank one too many cups of wine following her discussion with Rhaegar as he was leaving.

 

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 

   After his conversation with the Crannogman, Rhaegar only stopped at his tent long enough to change and tend to a few small business matters before making his way to the castle to escort his father to the feast.

 As expected he had been in his chambers the entire time, apparently awaiting on Rhaegar to arrive, because as soon as he’d shown up, Ser Gerold had ushered him in with all haste.

 His father was pacing within his chambers when he came into sight. “Where have you been, boy?” The king demanded.

 “I beg your forgiveness, Your Grace, but I went to check about the Stark girl as you commanded. Afterward, I went to change before coming straight to you.” It wasn’t a lie, only, he found said girl in the Godswood rather than her tent.

 “And?” The king asked, annoyance plain in his tone.

 “And, she was indeed unwell,” he cleared his throat, “female weakness,” he shamefully confessed. Though he knew this to be untrue, he said the lie easily enough, as it was also the same lie she gave to Elia. His father acted as if he’d said nothing, so Rhaegar continued… “I offered to have chambers prepared within the castle for her, since she will soon be coming to Dragonstone.”

 “Though, she’s given no cause to suspect herself or her brothers. I told her she could use it at her leisure for the time being, but for now she was free to remain in camp with her brothers, at least until the tournament is over. At which time her care will be surrendered to the crown.” He knew that this news should Please his father, even if that wasn’t quite the way the conversation went down.

 “Very good, yes. She should have a room prepared inside the castle, and as long as her brothers remember their places she can remain between both locations. But I want an eye on her movements when she is not in the castle.” He could tell his father wasn’t done speaking, so he bowed his head as if accepting a command.

 “I’m impressed Rhaegar, I was certain that you would find a way to disobey me on this, but it seems like you are starting to understand what it means to rule over the sheep. You can only rule from a position of power, and power comes from fear.” Green flashed behind the king's eyes.

  _You’re wrong father, power comes from where people believe it does…_

 Rather than give voice to his thoughts, he nodded again in understanding. “I will not forget, My King.” His father seemed pleased by his response, so Rhaegar got down to the real reason he had come.

 “Would you care to go to the feast?” He asked, and didn’t miss his father grimace.

 “Yes, yes. Let us go. I won’t be there long however. I do not trust these people. That Knight from today means us harm.” The King ranted, as they made their way to the Great Hall.

 “As you say, My King.” This interest in the Mystery knight worried Rhaegar. He’d hoped that by now he would have let this go, but now it would seem he would have his work cut out for him in the coming days.

 “Tywin is behind this, I know it. It had to have been that little brat who dressed up today. He defied me, and didn’t ride for King's Landing as I ordered him!” The Kings triade was epic, and Rhaegar knew he had to find a way to talk his father down. It would not do to have Ser Jaime killed for doing what was commanded of him, just so he could save Lyanna’s skin.

 “Your Grace, if I may. The boy was much too small to be Ser Jaime; and that boy rode far better than Ser Jaime. Perhaps you can send word to Lord Varys?” He hoped this suggestion would passify his father's temper. Also knowing that this is a dangerous game he’d been playing at. Because, in all likelihood Varys could find out the truth quite easily.

  _Yet another person I’ll need to win to my cause…_ and this time, he dreaded the idea of conversing with the Spider.

  _His loyalty is fluid at best, there is no way I’ll ever be able to trust that Varys isn’t selling my secrets to the most attractive ruler to suit his agenda._

Unbidden, he found himself wishing for his great great great grand uncle Brynden for the first time in his life. What he wouldn’t give for a Master Of Whisperers with his uncles talents. Luckily however, his father seemed to accept his suggestion about contacting the Spider, and they made the rest of the journey in silence.

 People were still arriving as they entered the hall and made their way to the High Bench. Elia and Ashara were already there awaiting them, along with Arthur and Oswell.

 Everyone in the Hall stopped and bowed to the King and Prince as they passed them by, and once the king got to his seat and sat, so too did the rest of the Hall.

 Robert showed up, as had the Lady Cersei and Lyanna’s brothers. The only person he noticed was absent was Lyanna, and he couldn’t help but to miss her. Even though the rational part of him knew it had only been a few hours since the last time he’d seen her.

So far the feast was a relaxed affair, the conversations in the room were pleasant enough, and there had been no drunken proclamations thus far. Furthermore, even though his father was clearly on edge, he’d chosen to attend in silence. This way he could observe everyone around him. Rhaegar should have known that the calm was only a mere prelude to the storm.

 He snorted to himself. _The storm indeed…_

“I say that whomever has to enter a tourney as a Mystery Knight is a craven. I bet I could have unhorsed him!” Robert proclaimed, loud enough for the entire hall to hear.

 Behind him, Richard Lonmouth piped in with his own vows to unmask the Mystery Knight.

  _Idiots… there will be no more Mystery Knight._

 But it was too late. The spark had been lit because suddenly the vow to unmask the knight took root. Most of the Lords in attendance were hooting and hollering back and forth, and although Rhaegar found it all rather annoying, he could have endured it. Only the king was apparently moved by Robert's words, because one moment he was sitting in silence, and the next he was on his feet making a proclamation of his own.

 “This Mystery Knight is no friend of mine.” He screamed to the gathered masses, promising lands and titles and huge rewards to whomever was unable to unmask him on the morrow.

  It was in this moment that Rhaegar was certain; one day he would bring fire and blood to Robert Baratheon, because now that Robert started this little game between the two of them, there would be no way his father would put this to bed. Not until he had someone tied to a pyre, lit by wildfire.

 And suddenly, he wondered if this had been Robert's plan all along...

 

* * *

**The Quiet-Wolf**

* * *

 

  “Where are we going Ash?” She had been leading him for the past few minutes through the grounds with his eyes closed under pain of death.

 “You will see, were almost there.” She pulled him along at a steady pace. The only thing he knew was that The Prince and Lyanna would also be there.

 There was a clear bounce in her step, giving away how excited she was. “Can you give me a clue at least?”

 Anything would do at this point, the suspense was killing him.

 It wasn’t long before Ashara slowed her progress and then stopped completely. “We’re here. But keep your eyes closed.”

 Ned could hear voices nearby, and the shuffle of feet, and then water lapping at the shore, and Ned thought for a moment that he knew exactly where they were.

“Okay you can all open your eyes now,” it wasn’t Ashara to speak, it was Howland. He glanced around his surroundings, they were standing on a flat wooden surface, sitting just inside the water, that had been made to float across the lake.

 “Everyone get comfortable,” Howland commanded, and so they listened.

 Lyanna and Rhaegar sat side by side, Ashara and himself doing the same, while Howland used the pole he had fashioned to push them off from the shore. Once they were a good distance away Howland began his tale of the Free Folk behind the Wall, and their customs for choosing a mate. The same tale he told Lyanna the night previous. Only less like a lesson and more like a story. When he was almost finished, he told them all to look up into the sky.

 And there, just above the Gods Eye, was a glowing crimson planet. And just off to the side, the constellation known to most as the Moonmaid.

 If Ned was being honest, it was stunning to see, and he’d never even heard the lore before. But after Howland finished his tale, Ned found that he did not hate the wildlings the way that most northmen did. In fact he found that he was more sympathetic to their cause.

 Ashara had fallen asleep with her head in his lap by the time they made it back to shore. When they finally stepped from the raft, Benjen and Bran were there waiting on them with a few horses to transport everyone back to camp. There was much to think on, but Ned found that his eyes were drawn back to the Thief and the Moonmaid.

  _It’s about time that the north starts to remember where we came from._

Somewhere between the Gods Eye and their camp, Ned made the decision to write home to his father and tell him everything. When the tourney was over, he would take Lyanna south with the Prince and Ashara, and then they would all sail home. No matter what the outcome was, one thing was certain for Ned. His time as Jon Arryn’s ward and Robert's foster brother were at a close. Winter is Coming, and the North needed Men not Boys.

 Ashara and Ned rode back to the camp beside his sister and the prince, having left Howland back at the lake with Brandon and Ben.

 After the last couple of days, Ned had much to think on. Of one thing he knew with certainty; he was more than ready for this tournament to be done and over with.

 The problem was, it was only the end of the second day. It would be a little over a sennight before they departed toward King's Landing and at least a moons-turn from then before they would set foot on northern soil.

  _The only silver lining in this is Ashara… my mate._

“Would you have waited to seal our link had you known more about it when we met?” He couldn’t help but to ask.

 Ashara looked to him, and then to the Prince and Lyanna before she spoke. “Do you think waiting really mattered to either of them?”

 “That’s not an answer…” Ned chuckled.

_What was with the women in his life? Answering questions with questions, Lyanna was the exact same._

 “Sure it is. Isn’t it obvious? She wanted to wait because she felt like her choices were being taken from her, but in the end, she chose him anyway, because there was no choice to make in all reality.” Ashara explained, as if theirs was the most natural situation to consider.

 “Ned, the God’s fashioned all of us for one another. You are the mirror to my soul, just as the prince mirrors hers. Do you understand what I’m trying to say to you?”

 He did, but he wanted to hear her say it all the same.

 “I think so, but will you explain anyway?” She rolled her eyes but obliged all the same.

 “Very well. You see, Lyanna is outgoing, untamed, uninhibited, she is of the wind. From whence you will never know where she comes or where she goes. Rhaegar is shy, quiet, reserved, constrained. If Lyanna and Rhaegar are a balance it is for these reasons. She will breathe air into him, stoke his fire, but also help him to contain the inferno lest it burn uncontrollably. You see, fire consumes, but ice preserves. Both were always meant to dance side by side.”

 Ned had an idea of what she was trying to tell him, but he loved to listen to her speak. So rather than interrupt he just nodded his understanding. His efforts were rewarded when she continued anew.

 “There is not much of a difference between you and I. Look at your mark Ned. Before our connection you were the lonely quiet wolf. Don’t think I haven’t heard them refer to you as such.” Ashara admonished. “But when you took my hand, and our marks merged, your wolf gained the moon and the stars as it’s constant companions. Tell me Ned, to where do wolves howl?”

 A slow smile spread across his face. “Wolves howl to the moon.”

 “Exactly, my darling Ned. My Quiet wolf has found his voice, and I swear, I will never let you go unheard. You will never be alone.” Ashara vowed.

 “And I vow to you, to always tell you what I am thinking, and never shut you out. I vow that I shall guard your side, and defend _our_ _pack_ always.” And he would. He wasn’t sure what part he and Ashara would play in the future. Or why the Gods chose to mark he and Ashara alongside his sister and Prince Rhaegar, but he was certain that no matter what, he would have fallen for Ashara regardless. She was perfect for him, and he was determined to be worthy of her.

 They spoke more on the way back to camp, but once they arrived, they said their goodbyes and parted ways. Ashara, along  with Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar went back to the castle where Lyanna had chambers prepared for her at the princes request. Apparently Lyanna decided to accept the princes offer, thinking it best to be there to prepare for the games on the morrow, and her arrival with the royal party would go far to ingratiate her toward the king. Ned couldn't pretend to understand her reasoning on the matter. Surely the king cared as much for her compliance as he did for pardoning innocent citizens.

 Now that he was finally back in his tent however, his day finally caught up with him and he found that his cot was calling his name and he yearned for a proper rest.

 Unfortunately it was not to be so.

 No sooner had he removed his cloak, boots, and doublet did Robert appear in the entrance to his tent. “Ned,” Robert held his hands up in surrender. “I just came to talk.” He explained, but Ned had no interest in talking until Robert provided the answers he’d demanded of him the night before.

 “You can speak, but do us both a favor and stay on topic. As I’ve already given you the subject matter that most interests me.” He knew that it was expected of him to smooth things over with Robert, but it would do nobody any good for him to show weakness toward Robert in a matter such as this.

 “Aye, you said that you want answers, and honestly Ned, I’m having a hard time understanding where all of this is coming from. It’s not as if you’ve been unaware of my intent to wed your sister. Of course I’ve been sending ravens back and forth between myself and the maester. But I assure you I always assumed that your lord father dictated the replies to my inquiries.” Robert explained, and against his better judgment, Ned felt himself relax a bit.

 If what Robert was saying is true, he could understand the confusion and that would mean maester Walys had a lot to answer for. But it still didn’t explain what maester Walys stood to gain from encouraging a match between Robert and Lyanna—, _this door is not shut._

“And as to the rest? Your bastards, your whores, your inability to think of anyone save yourself?” He asked without remorse.

 “Ned, you know me,” Robert answered as it that should excuse everything.

   _It didn’t._

 Ned arched an eyebrow in Robert's direction, hoping it conveyed his annoyance.

  _It must have._

 _“_ I’m not saying that my behavior over the last few days has been acceptable, but I thought that if I distracted myself, I would be better equipped to be in Lyanna’s company.” Robert shrugged, clearly uncomfortable in having to confess this aloud. “You know, so I wouldn’t do anything to dishonor her.”

  _What? Does he not hear himself?_

“So let me get this straight… you dishonored her by neglecting her, to dishonor her by bedding two strange women the very night you met her for the first time, all in an attempt to _not_ dishonor her?” Ned was incredulous. “You have a backward sense of honor Robert. You could have made things easier by simply getting to know her. Instead you told her about what you want, what you expect, as if her wants meant nothing to you. And after all that, you pushed your will on her, and got handsy with her anyway.” He kept his voice low as he spoke. “And to add insult to the offense, you took two women to bed.”

 Robert visibly paled. It was clear now that he’d hoped to sway Ned with his words and their familiarity, but Ned wanted none of it. Sure, mending the rift in their friendship was important to him, but this thing with Lyanna would need to end. And simply staying quiet on the matter only seemed to encourage Robert to pursue his intentions… _no more._

Finally, Robert spoke. “I can see what you’re saying and I’ve been a fool Ned, but I will do better. You’ll see, I will win your sisters heart, and I will make sure to speak with Lord Rickard myself. Even if that means I’ll have to ride for Winterfell myself, I’ll do it, you’ll see—,”

  _Poor fool, he just won’t let this go…_

 _“_ Robert, stop. This thing with Lyanna is done. Have you heard nothing I’ve said to you? Even if you changed right now, you have already dishonored her before every lord and lady of the realm, along with their sons and daughters. Not to mention you presume too much before you had a written contract in hand. . . And my Lord Father has made no progress toward a match in favor of you and Lyanna.” Ned sighed. “You are most welcome to ride for Winterfell to speak with my father on the matter. In fact I hope that you do.”

 He didn’t miss the hopeful look in Robert's eyes at Ned’s last words. _No doubt he believes me still in support of a match between him and Lyanna. Let him assume, it matters not. So long as my father is the one to deliver the final word._

 Of one thing he was sure of when it came to Robert and what he desires. Robert would never accept the King's decree to block his union to Lyanna. Robert's tolerance of the King and the Royal family was tenuous even in the best of circumstances, which this was not.

 Robert had held a grudge against the house of Dragons ever since he watched his parents and their ship smash in Shipbreaker Bay on the return voyage from Lys, where his father had been sent in search for a Valyrian bride for Rhaegar. Robert had never forgotten watching the ship sink into the water, and ever since he’d held a special sort of contempt for the Prince and the King both. Robert felt like they had taken everything from him, his mother, his father, his youth, his freedom, his options. In a lot of ways Robert and Lyanna have this in common.

  _Probably why they would be awful for one another…_

 “Then that is what I’ll do. As soon as the tourney is over, I’ll prepare for the journey. Say you’ll come with me? You’ve always told me how beautiful the north is, and I promised that one day we would make the trip together. What do you say?” Robert proclaimed, his smile wide, eyes hopeful. As nice as it sounded to go straight home after the tournament, he could not.

 His path took him south before it took him north again. Yet he couldn’t divulge this, not yet. Not until the king himself made the announcement. So he kept his silence and opted to tell a lie that wasn’t quite a lie instead.

 “We shall see. Brandon awaits word from our father in regards to our instructions following the tournament. Riverrun seems the most likely destination. Perhaps father would allow me to escort Ben home though…”

  _And perhaps you’ll forget all about this and just go back to the Eyrie..._

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

  After they departed from the Gods Eye, Lyanna rode beside her mate.

  _Her mate…_

 She still hadn’t told him about the dream from earlier in the day, but she had every intention to divulge everything to him.

 Tonight, Howland introduced them all to the ‘ _Thief’_ and the ‘ _Moonmaid’_ , and for the first time, Lyanna was shocked to find that she’d never noticed them together before. But she understood what they meant well enough by now. When the two aligned, Rhaegar and she would seal their union before the Gods. She turned to her silver prince and reached across the distance to take his hand.

 “I had another dream this evening, after you left me.” She confessed. But the look that passed over Rhaegar’s features was almost one of disappointment, and she thought it odd that he would react in such a way. “I think it was something the God’s were trying to show me.” She continued.

 At least he had the decency to change his reaction before he responded. “Please forgive my reaction, I was only confused. I thought that you meant another dream of me.”

 Realization dawned on her, they were supposed to share details of the dreams they had shared the previous night, and in truth she’d forgotten all about it with everything else that was going on.

 “I don’t understand, why would that disappoint you?” It was certainly not the reaction she would have thought would come from such an admission.

 Rhaegar blushed before replying. “It wouldn’t, I promise, I was just put out by the idea that I couldn’t share in the experience myself, ‘tis all.” He confessed in a rush.

 She thought this the cutest thing she had ever heard from the lips of a grown man, let alone a future King. So she decided not to tease him for it. Not right now at any rate.

 “Ah, I see. I confess ‘tis not that type of dream, for I doubt my subconscious mind had much to do with the outcome of what I saw in this dream…”

 And so Lyanna told Rhaegar about the wolves, and the Wolfswood, about the God's Eye, and the World Tree, about the seed-pods, and the altar and finally, she told him about the Voice.

 “Rhaegar, I believe we are made to seal our union before the altar, In order to claim the seeds. I think this has something to do with the last part. _Embracing the Ice in order to embrace the Fire.”_ She hoped that he had some understanding of interpreting visions, but it was a while before he spoke.

 “If what you are saying is exactly as you saw it, I believe that it’s highly likely you’re correct, and while I could send a raven to my maester on Dragonstone in search of further confirmation, I think we have a better source of information right here at Harrenhal with us.”

 “Hasn’t lord Reed been a guest on the isle over the past winter?”

 Lyanna nodded, but said nothing more.

 “Have you ever had visions before? Visions where you can interact with your dreamscape?” The Prince asked.

 She thought about it. Unless she counted her dream of the prince, she didn't think she had. “I don’t believe so, but ever since the _mark,_ I’ve had visions constantly as I’m sure you have too. I know that Ned has.”

 “Yes, I’ve had dream visions as well, but not like you’ve described. Except when I am speaking with _her._ Though that happens in sleeping and in waking hours.” He paused.

 “Fear not my she-wolf. I have every intention of claiming you before the gods of your people, and soon to be mine.” He smiled at her then, warm and sincere and full of promise. Her heart almost exploded at the thought of her people being his people too… “But I think you and I need to keep Howland abreast of any such dreams like this. And also, I think we can definitively rule in favor of the validity of Direwolves being south of the Wall. I saw the same thing today when we sealed our bond, or did you forget?” She had forgotten about that.

 “You’re right, I did forget about it, but I won’t forget again. I’ll be sure to write it in my vision log.”

 Rhaegar’s eyes went wide. “You’ve been recording your dreams and visions?

 “Of course I have, if the Gods are speaking, I mean to listen.” She confessed.

 “I keep one as well, we may have to combine them at some point. My ancestors have kept them as well. Daenys and Aegon the Conqueror, even Visenya—I have copies of theirs, I found them hidden on Dragonstone.”

 This caught Lyanna’s attention. Visenya was a childhood heroine of hers. What she wouldn’t give to read her written words. To get to know the warrior queen more personally. “Will you allow me to read them sometime?” She just couldn't help but asking. The worst he could do would be to say no? She’d had worse before.

 The look on her face must have been amusing, because the prince began to laugh at her, which she did not find amusing in the least. “All you have to say is no, I should think. There’s no reason to laugh at me for being curious.” She snapped without waiting for him to explain.

 Rhaegar, apparently taken aback by her reaction stilled his mount, pulling her to a halt beside him. Before he spoke, he smiled a reassuring smile. “Of course you can read them. I was thinking to transcribe them as to preserve them anyway. Maybe we could do it together… tell me, how fluent are you at High Valyrian?”

_Was he trying to make peace?_

 “Lyanna, I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at your excitement. I find it refreshing, and also a bit new. I suspect my reaction was much the same as yours when I first uncovered them. Only no one was there to witness it.” He explained.

 Immediately she felt foolish about her quick reaction.

_The damn wolfs blood…_

 They talked some more before they reached the camp. Lyanna couldn't believe how easy it was just talking with him, neither of them ever running out of things to say.

 Lyanna had decided to accept the additional accommodations within the castle. After being so far removed from everything, and everyone this evening, she’d quickly realized that had she already been in the castle, it would have been easier for her prince and she to see each other.

 She was pleased to find that Rhaegar had the foresight to request chambers be prepared for her just in case she accepted his offer. So when they arrived back at camp she made arrangements with Ned to accompany Ashara and Prince Rhaegar back to the castle for the night. A soft bed sounded like a Godsend before her day with the King on the morrow.

 Furthermore, even though they had merged their marks, Rhaegar had remained a perfect gentleman. Never presuming to touch her any more than to hold her hand, or caress her cheek. Unless she initiated more, which of course she hadn’t. Her brother may be in the same situation, but he was still her big brother.

 Just—, no.

 Unfortunately, now that they were nearing the castle, and the stables, she knew they would be parting ways soon. As he would not be able to enter her chambers alone, this late at night. Not unless they want to draw unwanted attention to one another.

 Before he could say goodnight, she turned to him. “Last night, I had a dream of you. I fell asleep with the melody of your song floating around in my mind, and the next thing I knew, I was in front of my tent. Crossing the distance to you. I knelt before you and I kissed you. Choosing you. Claiming you.” She confessed.

 “Rewarding me…” Rhaegar said in a voice so low she almost missed it.

 “What did you just say?” She had to have heard wrong.

 Rhaegar turned to face her too, and he licked his lips before he spoke. “You were rewarding me for my song.” His grin was wicked. “I dare say, you were not dreaming alone. Should I share the details on my end, or do you think your version will suffice?” He was teasing her now.

 She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her wanton ways exposed.

  _Gods!_ She cursed inwardly. _Do you hate me?_ She didn’t really expect an answer. _Even the gods enjoy a laugh at my expense._

 _“_ Well, I suppose there will be no secrets between us now.” She said sheepishly. But the prince must have sensed her shame, because he pulled her to him the moment they dismounted at the stables and he held her tight.

 “Lyanna, I had no idea we were dreaming. I thought I was still outside of your tent. I was struggling to not take advantage of you in front of my knights, until the moment you told me you were dreaming. You have nothing to feel ashamed of.” He whispered softly to her. “When I woke this morning, my body still hadn’t realized that you weren’t there. Do you understand?”

 Lyanna bit her lip and he almost lost focus again. She drove him mad every time she did that. He dipped his head and kissed her gently, sucking her lips, to get her to release her hold on her lower lip.

 “Stop that,” He husked to her in a low rough voice. “It’s distracting.”

 “When I woke today, Lyanna, my body hadn’t caught up to the reality of my situation.” He repeated, and this time he stepped in closer to her. She raised up on the tip of her toes, lacing her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his, and he smiled then.

 When her eyes went wide with realization of what he was trying to tell her. She looked down, and then up, into his eyes and he nodded his confirmation. “I had no choice but to take care of myself before I could even leave my bed. He breathed in a deep breath. “Don’t you see the effect you have on me? He asked her in a voice that was almost strained.

 She wasn’t sure how to respond. The longer she stood here in his embrace, the more sure she’d become of her influence over him. She wanted to back up and give him space, but there was another part of her that wanted to throw caution to the wind, and to wrap herself around him. To spend the night allowing him to explore her body, and explore his in return. She wanted to abandon propriety. He was hers after all.

 But there was a small voice in her head, telling her to wait. That it was not yet time to take it that far, and if she did, she would regret it. So against her better instincts, against everything within her, she pushed herself back. Placing some space between their bodies.

 “If what you say is true, then we will see each other in our dreams. If not tonight, then soon. As much as I want to act on my desire to see you, and feel you beneath my palms. I know we will regret not waiting.” She confessed. “So I shall go to bed dreaming of the feel of your lips on mine, the fire your touch licks across my flesh when your skin touches mine, and I hope you sleep well knowing. . .” She leaned into him, her lips pressed gently to his ear. She grabbed his hand and guided it to her hot center. “I’m burning for you too...” She smiled wolfishly as she stepped back again, and then she turned toward the doors, walking away in the direction of where Ashara was awaiting her.


	19. A New Queen is Crowned

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 

On the day following her great win, she awoke within the castle walls from an unfortunate dreamless slumber.

 Perhaps she just couldn’t remember dreaming, but one thing is for certain she had definitely made the right decision sleeping inside the castle on the previous evening. The bedding she slept on was as soft as freshly fallen snow, and the way it hugged and supported her still sore muscles, it was as if she had fallen asleep before her head even hit the pillow.

 Having chose her dress the night before, Lyanna called for a bath and a servant to help her dress. And just as they were finished, both Ashara and Princess Elia were at her door, inviting her to break her fast with them.

 They were both stunning, with their sun kissed skin, and beautiful raven locks. Ashara in light blue and violet, Elia in orange and gold, with a delicate gold circlet adorning her brow. Lyanna couldn't help but to give herself another glance, wondering how she compared when standing beside women as beautiful as the two of them. Somehow, she found herself inadequate.

 All fears and doubts, however were cast aside the moment they entered the Great Hall and she found the indigo eyes of her silver prince appraising her approvingly. It was a small reassurance, but she found it had been all she’d needed, for when he looked upon her, it was as if everything and everyone faded away until it was just the two of them remaining… so intimate… her heart fluttered.

 The King sat beside him, long filthy matted hair, longer yellow nails, with the golden crown of Aegon the Unworthy sitting comfortably atop his wrinkled brow. She swallowed back her growing unease, and admitted to herself how little she was looking forward to spending the day in his company. She wasn’t fool enough to hope the King be amiable the entire day, especially if His Grace’s behavior the previous evening was the example of what she should expect today.

 Quietly, she sent a prayer to her Gods, asking for patience and perhaps a touch of humility, to see her through this day. As much as remaining true to her own nature was important to her, letting loose with her tongue could lose her, her life.

_And wouldn’t that be fun? Nay, I think I should like to live a bit longer._

 She squared her shoulders, gathering her wits about herself, and made for the high table, following behind Princess Elia and Ashara, greeting first the king, and then the prince.

 “You don’t appear to be sick.” The king cut at her. Lyanna’s face reddened. _So much for easy greetings…_ she thought wryly.

 “I am much improved this morning, Your Grace. ‘Twas only a woman’s illness, tis all.” Her eyes lowering from embarrassment, knowing her words to be a lie. Though, of this subject, Lyanna knew the king wouldn’t question, and her instincts were rewarded when he waved her away, as if she were a nuisance.

 Grateful, she curtsied to the King before making her way over to sit beside her companions. After breaking their fasts, they all made their way over toward the tourney grounds, where she hoped to see her brother and Rhaegar before their matches.

 On the way over, they were joined by Ser Arthur and her brother Ned. Which was fine with her, but she couldn't help but to note that something was bothering Ned. Not wanting to call him on it, she made a mental note to ask him about it later on.

 “Fair morning, dearest brother,” Lyanna greeted. Ned met her gaze and smiled at her warmly before embracing her.

 “And to you sweetest sister.”

 “I trust all is well?” She prodded.

 “As well as can be expected, I suppose we should know more by the end of the day?” He replied, and she could hear the nerves in his tone. He was worried about her, he was worried about what would happen to her if she was discovered, and honestly she was a bit nervous too. Nevertheless he tried his best to mask his worry and instead asked an unrelated question. “What brings the three of you in this direction?” Ned enquired.

 “Well, I can’t speak for my Good-Sisters to be, but I was hoping to wish Bran and the Prince luck in their matches.” Lyanna answered truthfully, knowing that Ned probably thought her statement odd due to the fact that one of Rhaegar’s challengers was Bran.

 She reached out, and took his hand in hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. “Everything is going to work out, you will see. The prince won’t allow his father to harm me. I’m certain of this. Besides, stressing over the matter will do little to prevent it from happening. I made my choice knowing, it would be a risk if I were discovered. I must also own my fate Ned,” she smiled reassuringly. “So do us both a favor, and relax, please.”

 “Aye, I’ll do my best to remember,” he concedes before pulling her in for a warm embrace. “You be good today, hmm? No matter what, please keep your wolf blood in check around the king.” She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his request. But then she remembered that the king could try to provoke her while Rhaegar rode against her brother and she groaned in frustration.

 “Oh gods, your funny. ” she said aloud to no one in particular. Ned just gave her a puzzled look, so she explained. “The Mystery Knight, me, stuck with the King and—, no offense, Princess Elia and Ash while the prince faces off against our oldest brother. And all the while, I’ll be expected to act, and behave as if I’m a lady, even while the King mocks our kin.” All the apprehension that she had rid herself of in the past night came back in full force.

 “Lyanna, I know that this will be new to you, but try to have faith in our ability to see you through all of this. Most of the time, the king speaks just to hear the sound of his own voice.” Princess Elia was the one to speak this time, and even though Lyanna knew her not, when she spoke she could see the sincerity of Elia’s words reflecting back at her through her onyx eyes.

 Reluctantly, Lyanna accepted Elia’s words. And turned her attention back to her brother. “Tell Brandon, that I wish him good fortune. I’d give him my favor but I cannot. As I do not wish to see the Prince harmed, though I expect that Brandon is in for a surprise. Rhaegar has his mind set to win this entire thing.” She told Ned.

 “Aye, I do suspect that this day will be full of surprises.” He confessed as they walked along.

 Lyanna slowed her march, “Would it be okay if we stopped by Rhaegar’s tent to wish him luck in his match?” She asked her companions.

 Arthur and Elia both arched a brow at her. “Only the prince? They both asked in unison, though Lyanna could tell that they were teasing her.

 She decided to play along. “Of course not, I mean to wish Ser Oswell and Barristan luck as well.” Arthur looked positively appalled that she didn’t mention him, and Lyanna had a hard time containing her mirth.

 “Would you stop it, I already know you don’t need it. Besides, I’m sure you have all the luck you could possibly need.” She whispered conspiratorially for both Arthur and Elia to hear. Today’s matches would decide who will advance to the final two days. So Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard, Prince Rhaegar, and Brandon would all have matches. “I trust you won’t be facing the prince today Ser Arthur?” She asked in a teasing tone.

 “Nay, not today, My Lady.” Arthur confessed, causing Ned to flinch at the use of her title. She would let it slide though.

 “Well, I wish you good fortune in the matches to come, and I insist that in the future, you call me Lyanna when we are among friends and family. And just in case you have failed to notice, we _are_ to be family, you know?” She smiled, thinking of how she was soon to be the extended family to the Sword of the Morning.

 “Indeed, you are right. I would be honored to be considered as family to you, as I have first hand knowledge of how fiercely you protect your pack.” Lyanna beamed at his praise, but he hadn’t finished. Turning his gaze toward Ned, he resumed. “However, I’ve yet to be approached by a potential suitor for my sisters hand.” He finished, and even with the humor clear in his tone, her poor brother, ever the shy one, turned three different shades of crimson.

 Luckily the Lady Ashara came to his rescue. “Arthur, stop messing with my poor quiet wolf. He doesn't have to ask you anything, and I do not need your permission to choose. Furthermore, I will castrate you, should you touch one hair on his head.” She had been teasing, and it was clear but for all her good intentions, Ned looked as if he wanted to crawl into the deepest darkest hole he could find and disappear.

  Lyanna decided it was time to interject, “If it helps you feel any differently, the marks have made normal rules of courtship rather insignificant.” she offered as a means of middle ground, hoping that this would allow Ned to find his voice. “When they were unjoined, the time between meeting and bonding would have been considered the courtship phase, but once they were merged, the entire dynamic of courtship changed with it. I suspect, that neither of them had the time to court one another, due to the fact that they merged their marks almost immediately, so things were lost in translation.”

 Her words must have helped to calm her brother, because Ned was the next to speak by the time she had finished. “Aye, things did get confusing following our initial meeting, but I assure you I am very much committed to courting your sister properly, and honoring her as any man should honor her. I have not approached you on the matter, because I've yet to speak with her about what comes next.” he finally managed to say.

 To Lyanna’s relief, Ser Arthur just smiled  and clapped Ned on the back. “Not to worry Stark, I was just giving you a hard time. Ash is my baby sister true, but make no mistake, she is perfectly capable of making her own choices. Believe it or not, you are the only person I have ever seen her this taken with. Rest easy, I mean you no harm. Even more so, I have no desire to be on the receiving end of her wrath should I run you off.” Lyanna watched as her brother’s chest swelled with pride, knowing that Ashara felt for him what he felt for her. It was then that she decided to leave them to the rest of their conversation, so she focused her attention back to Princess Elia, who was walking beside Ser Arthur in relative silence.

 “How much longer before the babe comes?”

 The princess placed a hand on her swollen womb and smiled, “The maesters say four or five moons, depending on my constitution in the last part of my pregnancy.” But to Lyanna, the princess shone as brightly as the sun, she did not appear to be as frail as the rumors claimed her to be.

 “Are you nervous?” She was honestly curious, and had never had anyone to talk about this with before. Having lost her mother quite early, only Old Nan had been left to teach her all she knew about being a woman, and her duties as such. Though childbirth was no small matter in the North, talking about the intimate details was as rare in the North as it is in the South. Now that she and Rhaegar had sealed their bond, she knew that being a mother, and birthing his heirs would be her fate, and no matter how opposed she had been to the idea of marriage and children prior to meeting him. These things had already started to change for her, the moment that he had confessed to seeing the faces of their future children. Now all she can think of is what kind of people they will be, and what they will look like. She found that she was as scared as she was excited by the prospect of it, but she was definitely not against the idea. Not the way she had been before the marks.

 “I don't mean to scare you but honestly, yes I am nervous. Not about birthing the babe, I'm nervous about what comes after. I have never been considered particularly healthy, and in terms of my disposition while birthing Rhaenys, I nearly met my end. The maesters expect that this one won't be much different, though I have to admit, this one feels different. In a good way, of course. Still, I can't help but feel nervous.” She finished.

 Of course, this information left her with more questions than answers, so she decided to ask the question that seemed the most important to her. “Please forgive my curiosity, but if your first childbirth was so difficult, why would you consent to putting yourself in that position a second time? Isn't your daughter enough?” She wanted to die the moment she had finished asking her question. Her Lord Father always told her that she shouldn’t ask a question just because she was curious… a hard lesson to learn to be sure. Shockingly enough, Elia simply gave a kind smile as the question went out into the universe, and then she looped her arm through Lyanna’s and pulled her close before she replied.

 “Because, there is no greater joy to be had than to see your reflection staring back at you through the eyes of a life you’ve created. Even if I don't live to see this babe grow, I will know that my babe was worth it, because this babe was created through love and mutual respect, and fate willed it into being. I would not be with child had the gods not chosen to bless me. I would be content with my life as it is, but Lyanna, once you become a mother, you will understand. I would gladly give my life in payment to bring this babe into the world.” she finished, looking lovingly toward her child’s father.

 She understood what Elia was saying to her, but the idea of willingly sacrificing her life, just to give life was still a strange concept to her. Knowing what not having her mother had been like she wasn’t sure she could reconcile herself or her future children to such a fate. Though with any luck, she would have some time yet before she had to focus on birthing heirs.

 They spoke for a while longer, while they progressed toward the groups of tents set up for the competitors, and once they had arrived outside Rhaegar’s tent she excused herself and went inside while the others made their way over toward Prince Oberyn who had just shown up.

 She found Rhaegar being helped into his armor, but when his eyes found hers, the smile that he gave made her knees quiver, and she found herself wondering if it was the same for him. Before he could say a word, she explained why she had come. “I came to give you my favor before your match.”

 He arched a brow at her, curious. “Oh, I hadn’t thought you would honor me. As it is your brother I face this afternoon. Would you be willing to help me to secure it?”  She knew that he was being playful. Such a contrast to the man that he normally presented to the world, and somehow she knew that this version of himself was reserved specifically for her and it made her heart swell just a bit more for this man that was now hers.

 “Sit.” She commanded, and so the prince sat.

 Lyanna made her way around the back of the chair, and she gathered his silver tresses in both hands, weaving his strands together in an intricate northern braid. When she got to the ends, she removed a ring that she had worn since the day her mother had given it to her, though it only fit her pinky finger, which is why she felt that it was perfect for this occasion. The ring itself was made in the fashion of the old crown of Winter King's; bronze intertwined with iron, rather than the sword spikes there were direwolves etched into the surface. She couldn't think of a better way to favor her prince, so she pulled a strand free and looped the ring around it, then she weaved the ends together and tied it off with the ribbon she had wrapped around her mark. Once she was done, she stood back to examine her work.

 “Perfect,” she beamed.

 Rhaegar ran his hand over the braid, until his fingers found the ring that she had cleverly woven into it, and when he found it he smiled. “Thank you.” he said. Taking her hand in his, he pulled her into his embrace. “I daresay I will be indomitable whilst your favor remains mine.”

 It was then that Lyanna realized how much she had missed seeing him in her dreams the previous night. Something she would bring up later. _Now is not the time._ Instead she spoke her reply, “I daresay you better be if you intend to win me. It wouldn't do for the crown prince to be outdone by a coward knight who refused to reveal his identity.” she teased, knowing all of what had been said in the Great Hall the previous evening.

 Rhaegar, had the grace to chuckle at her jest before he helped her to her feet. “You should probably head toward the royal seats, I imagine they will call an open to the tilt soon enough.” This was more to convince himself than it was for her, she could see the reluctance to let her go written all over his face.

  _Mercy…_ she thought. _Show him mercy._

 She stepped away, knowing one of them had to show restraint, and today seemed as good a day as any for her to begin practicing. “My prince is wise, and I've a very important person awaiting my company, best unhand me Ser, or I shall inform His Grace that I was detained by a lustful dragon.” Her words had the desired effect, as he was beaming at her until the moment she breezed out of his tent in search of her companions.

 When they finally got to the stands, the King was just getting to his seat. Elia and Ashara lead the way over, and the three bowed to the king, being sure to present themselves properly. Lyanna knew the moment they entered that something was off though. The tension around the king was so thick, it would have taken Valyrian steel to cut through it. The king said nothing, but Lyanna could tell that it would only be a matter of time before his situation changed, and not for the better.

 She glanced around, her brothers were seated across the way, Ned and Ben were joined by Howland. Beside them sat Robert and Jon Arryn along with some other lords of the Vale who came to support Brandon. For just a moment she thought she caught Robert glaring at her from across the yard. Something about the man just didn't feel right, and somehow she was sure that he needed to hear from her own lips that they could and would never be. He would not accept anything less, he needed to be rejected by her. For too long has he been disillusioned into believing a lie. _No more_. When Ned and Father speak with him, she would request to be present to speak for herself.

 She was called from her thoughts by the voice of the king. “Girl.” he barked. Though she wasn’t sure who he was speaking to, so she glanced toward Elia and Ashara for answers only to find them gesturing toward her.

 _Oh gods, what could he possibly want?_ Standing, she approached the king.

 “Your Grace?” she questioned, remembering her courtesies.

 “Ah, there you are, sit.” the king commanded, gesturing toward the chair usually reserved for the prince. Lyanna swallowed back the lump forming in her throat.

 “Tell me, girl… is your father too busy plotting treason to attend a tourney?” The king asked, but Lyanna couldn't help but hear the panic and the madness in his voice, and while she’d never been in the direct company of a person who was losing their mind, she couldn't help but wonder more about the king's condition… Something told her that the king would only respect strength. Obeisance will only get her so far, she would have to dance around a bit.

  _Very well,_ she thought to herself, _game on…_

 “I apologize your grace, I cannot claim to know of what treason you speak, my Lord Father is a dutiful servant of His Grace and chose to send us as to integrate his heir into the customs of the other six kingdoms. He hopes that this experience will help the North to improve and strengthen its relationship with the crown,” she finished with a sincere smile, bracing herself for the reply that she knew was coming.

 What she hadn’t expected however was for the king to relax into an almost casual conversation with her. “What do you wolves do in the North that Southern customs would seem so different to your father?”

  _What a loaded question…_ she would need to choose her words carefully, speak from the heart.

 “My Lord Father raised us in what my ancestors and our people call the Old Way. I'm sure His Grace knows that we have no septas or septons in the North to help raise our children. Instead we are taught by our governesses and our maesters. Another difference is that we all take part in any task that needs doing, whether it is cleaning the stables or running the household. The weather is unforgiving, and in the heart of winter, our home is near to bursting, as our people oft times make the journey to Winterfell to seek the warmth that can be found within the castle walls. As such, my brothers and I are well acquainted with the people, high and low alike.”

 “My father invites someone different every night to dine beside him at the high table. This way he can stay abreast of any issue or complaint, whether it be a concern of the High lords or the common folk.” She paused glancing up at the king to see if he was still listening, and to her astonishment she found him listening with fascination. 

* * *

  **Elia**

* * *

   When the day started she had known that there would be many surprises. She had expected the King's insulting quips, his snide remarks. She’d expected to be ignored even, but she had not expected the king to behave almost _normal? Could such a word even be applied to the man?_ Elia wasn’t sure, even still she could not tear herself away from the scene unfolding before her very eyes.

 “Tell me, girl, what do you do when you are at home with no septa to give you lessons, how do you pass your time?”

Elia glanced around, not sure of what or whom she was looking for, perhaps the real Aerys Targaryen?

  The wolf maid blushed before she gave answer, which did not go unnoticed by the king, so he pressed the question.

 “Tell the truth girl, I shall know if you tell me false. You wear your reactions clearly for the world to see.” _He has a point…_ Was she seriously agreeing with a mad man?

 “I swear to be honest with Your Grace. Only, I do hope you will understand why I gave pause…” and Lyanna set about answering the King's question.

 “I spend a great deal of time tending to the glass gardens and the winter roses kept within them. I also tend the Weirwood in our family’s Godswood.” Elia watched Lyanna’s face light up at the mention of her family’s ancient sanctuary.  

 “My favorite place in all of Winterfell is the Godswood.” She explained.

 “What makes it so?” The King asked. But Elia felt only dread at his inquiry, knowing the link between the weirwoods and the Mystery Knight. Lyanna was playing a dangerous game.

 “Beyond the fact that the Heart Tree is nestled into the center, there are quite a few pools within the woods. Most of them remain hot, even in the dead of winter. All but for one pool actually, the pool beside the Heart Tree. That one is ice cold year round.” Lyanna confessed.

 “A castle of ice built atop fire…” the King's voice trailed off, and for a moment Aerys sounded like Rhaegar. Lyanna must have missed the comment, because she made no reply. Regardless, he seemed to understand what she was telling him, so their conversation continued on until the herald announced the first match between Rhaegar and Lyanna’s brother Brandon. After, Lyanna and the King sat in relative silence, only speaking to remark about her brothers skill, or her opinion on the match.

 “Actually, Your Grace, Brandon and I are often said to be the best riders the North has seen in generations. Often we are likened to centaurs by some of our household staff, and bannermen. So I have every confidence that Brandon won’t shame our House. However, even I can see that my brother stands no chance against the crown prince.” At this, Elia let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The king, while he was behaving amiable enough, could snap back at any moment and could see treason in support of her brother over the prince, even if the king and Rhaegar weren’t on the best of terms, Aerys still valued the blood of the dragon over all others. However, her reply was received by the King with grace and from where she was sitting, Elia could swear that she was watching the reactions of a sane man.

 Lyanna had been right of course, her brother Brandon was quite skilled at riding, but for all the good it did him, there was something different about the prince. Rhaegar had always had a gift with the lance, though none would have ever made the mistake of dubbing him as a prodigy. But today was different, today Rhaegar rode out onto the field with more confidence and determination than she’d ever seen before. He was better attuned to his mount somehow, and his moves were calculated. In the end, Brandon managed to break two lances on the prince before Rhaegar managed to unhorse him and knock him out of the competition.

 Elia watched the reactions of the she-wolf and the King as Brandon was thrown from his horse. When the crowd let out a collective gasp the King sat forward, clearly pleased by his sons prowess, but he kept an eye on Lyanna.

 To her credit, she didn’t so much as panic, rather she simply sat there, spine ramrod straight, watching as Rhaegar dismounted and approached his opponent , and again a moment longer before he extended an arm toward a prone Brandon Stark and helped him to his feet.

 Two things happened simultaneously. The first was the loud cheers of the crowd, at seeing the good sportsmanship of the Crown Prince toward his more than worthy challenger. The other was the smile that broke across Lyanna’s face as she relaxed back in her seat. “It was as I’d expected.” She confessed without prompt, her smile never faltering.

 “You knew your brother would fall?” The King asked suspiciously.

 “Nay, Your Grace, but I knew the Prince would defeat him.” She quipped back with a wolfish smile. Her answer seemed to pass off the King's curiosity, because he said no more on the matter.

 The rest of the afternoon went on in similar fashion,  Rhaegar advanced on to the finals, while the king and the Lady Lyanna traded light banter back and forth between one another, Ashara and herself seemingly forgotten.

 The final match was Arthurs, which of course he won. Rhaegar Joined them in the box to watch the remaining matches just after his match with the heir to Winterfell. Arthur’s challenger rode well, but in the end he was unhorsed, allowing the Knight to secure his own place in the finals.

 As soon as the prince entered the seating area however, the mood changed a bit. Whatever cool serenity she had felt in his absence was now gone. Replaced by a slowly growing inferno, though she wasn’t sure if it was a result of the King's own madness, or the madness that had overcome the prince the moment he saw his father speaking so freely with Lyanna.

  _This should be interesting..._

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

  He’d been watching, of course. How couldn’t he? He hadn’t slept a wink the previous night. Too worried about what today might bring for him and for Lyanna. Leaving her in the care of Elia, Ashara and his father was one of the hardest decisions he’d ever had to make. Not knowing what she would say, or what she would do. Hoping beyond all hopes that the king would ignore her the way he tended to do with Elia, but his hopes had all been in vain.

 When Rhaegar was finally able to enter the yard, it was to the sight of Lyanna sitting beside his father in the chair that was normally reserved for himself. And even though he could not hear what they were saying to one another, it was clear that they had been having quite the conversation, which is exactly the reason he rushed back to the stands when he was finished competing.

 Conversation with his father could be a dangerous pastime, as anything said could be twisted into treason. Yet when he was finally close enough to greet them, he was shocked to discover Lyanna speaking cordially with the King.

 He looked over to Elia for an answer, which she didn’t care to provide, instead she shrugged noncommittally, leaving him to suss out the situation for himself.

 Exhaling, he made his way over toward the King and bowed. “Your Grace, it pleases me to find you enjoying the games.”

 The King looked up at him from his chair, and Rhaegar braced himself for his cutting remarks, but they never came. Instead the King smiled at him, and Rhaegar almost fell over from shock.

_What the hell is going on around here? What has she done to him?_

_“_ Indeed I am, it helps to have decent company for a change… unlike most of the time.” He cut his eyes across to Elia and Ashara.

  _Perhaps he just doesn’t like Elia?_

 “As you say.” Rhaegar agreed before turning to greet Elia, Ashara and Lyanna, keeping up appearances. Lyanna stood once his eyes settled on her, to offer his rightful chair, but Rhaegar waved her back. “If it please His Grace to keep you beside him, who am I to interrupt? I insist you stay seated,” he instead took the seat opposite the king.

 As the next match was called, Rhaegar sat in silence, listening to the voices all around him, scanning the yard to get a proper measure of the overall mood, which seemed to be relaxed and cheerful.

 To his surprise Lyanna and his father continued on in their conversation as if it were just the two of them present. Rhaegar could not recall the last time he’d witnessed his father converse so candidly with anyone, but it would appear that Lyanna had charmed the King just as easily as she had charmed him. Regardless, Rhaegar dared to not interrupt their conversation, lest he trigger an outburst from his father. Bad enough it was almost time to call the Mystery Knight to appear, and when he doesn’t show up, everything will come crashing down. No, it would be better to just allow this small reprieve from the King's insanity while it lasted.

 Oswell was currently on the field facing off against Arthur. While Oswell was skilled with lance and sword, Rhaegar was confident Arthur would be the one to advance. After all, Rhaegar had only ever managed to unseat Arthur once in the tourney held at Storm’s End, and only after breaking twelve lances after thirteen tilts. So when Oswell found himself unhorsed, no one was shocked.

 Rhaegar braced himself for the inferno he was sure was about to start raging. The king himself had also gone quiet, no doubt in anticipation of the heralds next announcement. Though when he called the end to the days games the king stood from his chair.

 “What is the meaning of this? There is yet one more challenger to appear.” He screamed aloud.

 “It would seem that he chose not to show, Your Grace.” The herald replied in a shaken tone, stating the obvious for all to hear, clearly fearing the King's wrath be focused on him.

 His father turned to him next. “You will go and find this Mystery Knight, and you will bring me his traitorous head. Do not fail me boy, or I shall see that you live long enough to regret it.” He snapped, then he rose from his seat and left everyone still sitting in stunned silence.

 Rhaegar had no idea how he was going to solve this, but he couldn’t refuse. Instead he got to his feet, and gave an apologetic smile to his beautifully brave mate, and excused himself to go on this false hunt.

 He had known exactly where to go, once he was away from the watchful eyes of his father's creatures. The one place that any evidence could be found— the Godswood. When he returned hours later with the Weirwood shield in hand, he delivered it straight to his father who had locked himself in his chambers for the duration of the night. Any traces of the man who sat beside Lyanna earlier in the day had vanished and in his place sat the _Mad King_ once more.

 To say that his father was less than pleased with the lack of a corpse was an understatement, Rhaegar hardly managed to escape his father with his head still attached to his shoulders. Needless to say, this issue was not going to disappear any time soon. The only thing good to come from all this is the Melee and the Archery contests would be held the following days, and that would give him time to see about securing the ears of some of the other high lords in the realm.

 He needed to see Lyanna first though…

 He found her in his tent, she was sitting inside with Howland, her little brother Benjen and Ser Oswell who’d agreed to tail her when he wasn’t already assigned to the king or himself. The four of them were all in the middle of a light conversation when he pulled the tent flaps aside, revealing him to his guests.

 “The King?” Oswell inquired, but Rhaegar knew he had only asked so that Lyanna wouldn’t have too.

 He shrugged, “As expected, this situation won’t be dying down any time soon,” he paused. “Would you all mind giving Lyanna and myself the room? I have some things I need to discuss with her, _alone.”_ Truthfully, he only wanted to speak with her about the effect she had on his father, get her side of the story.

 One by one, they all stood and made their way from his tent, leaving the two of them alone. Once the flap closed, Lyanna was up and across the room in an instant, throwing her arms around his neck as he pulled her flush against his chest. He inhaled her scent, relaxing the moment she was within the circle of his arms. “I’ve wanted to hold you all day. Ever since I saw you in the hall this morning.” He picked her up, and carried her across the room back to the chair she had been sitting in and sat down, keeping her close.

   “Well, I’m not going anywhere right now, not for a while yet. We have time to sit for a bit.” She murmured reassuringly.

 And so they sat there, whether it had been minutes or hours, he couldn’t be sure… but he had no intention to move her before absolutely necessary.

 They spoke about her afternoon with his father, and his strange behavior toward her. About Winterfell, and Summerhall. About her childhood with Benjen and his in the library of the Red Keep. Only stopping when Oswell came back to enquire about the feast. And so it was with great reluctance that he allowed her to depart, knowing that it was only a matter of time before she was back in his presence.

  _Why does this tourney have to take another Seven days to finish?_

* * *

**The Alpha Wolf**

* * *

 Rickard paced back and forth inside his study, thinking on all that he must do. His children had been gone now for almost two moons and if the ravens he’d received were any indication, the tourney was more than half over by now. Yet he was still unsure of what to do in regards to the three ravens he’d received in the last week from his two sons and the Crowned Prince.

 He should have went to that damned tournament, but there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, and if he’d kept Benjen behind, he would have never heard the end of it from Lya. For the first time since Lyarra, he wished he had taken another wife, if for nothing other than to have grown his pack.

 Thinking of Lyanna, the Lord of Winterfell released a heavy sigh. Robert would be a problem, and this issue with maester Walys was a delicate matter that needed to be handled quietly. As much as he would like to execute the man for meddling, the issue was much bigger than just Lya and Robert. He was still going through the many scrolls that were found hidden in the maesters chambers. Scrolls that established links between the maester at Casterly Rock and Grand Maester Pycelle in King’s Landing…

 It was because of this, he wasn’t prepared to send for a new maester just yet, as he wasn’t sure how invested the citadel is into the matter. For this reason, he decided that maester Walys would remain a guest in the cells until Prince Rhaegar arrived with Lyanna and Ned.

 Rickard went back to his desk and picked up the scroll he’d received from Brandon. _Ink marks… By the God’s why hadn’t they said anything?_ This whole thing could have been avoided had he known Lya and Ned had been marked. A sudden sadness washed over him.

  _When had Lyanna determined that she couldn't talk to him about such things?_

Then there is the matter of her dream and the fact that, in the past few days he had indeed received a number of reports regarding wolves in the Wolfswood. On the one hand, none reported attacks, only activity, On the other, the locations were so varied he couldn't help but to wonder at their numbers. Their presence alone warrants an investigation, though if Brandon’s missive was correct, these weren't wolves, but Direwolves. Direwolves that haven't been seen south of the wall since the time of Aegon the Conqueror and Torrhen Stark.

 He sighed once more, knowing that he had no choice in the matter. He would have to go himself. All of the information he was given, apparently came from Lyanna who had a dream and claims that they are gathering for a reason, and if that was the case a Stark must go.

 With everything considered, the ravens hadn’t been all dark, as the sayings go. Ned was coming North with a bride of his own. His second son, already wed, by the God’s own will at that.

 _Did you ever think it so Lyarra? Our quiet pup, destined to share his sister’s path in life…_ Her opposite in almost everything. If someone would have told him this a few years ago, he would have laughed. Ned had been the most mild mannered of his children. Lyanna ran circles around them all, but it seems that the Gods had chosen Ned to temper Lyanna. God’s knew that if anyone could do it, Ned was the one.

 He supposed that the saying was true, sometimes the things that go unsaid speak the loudest, and if this didn't define his quiet pup, nothing could. He had only heard rumors of the Lady Dayne that had been chosen for his boy, and even though Rickard had never considered a match with House Dayne before, they still held the blood of the First Men in their veins and she was a more than worthy match for his son. They boast a lineage as ancient and noble as their own, with renowned warriors to boot. He found himself smiling, a rare thing to be sure, but he was happy for his son, truly.

 He made his way from his chambers and headed toward the godswood, he intended to seek out the Gods, and he wanted to speak to his Lady wife before he rode for the Wolfswood. The night air was crisp, the snow still hadn’t fully melted, and if Lyanna was correct, it likely wouldn’t. Regardless, the night was agreeable enough that his cloak was enough to keep him warm.

 When he finally cleared the trees surrounding the Weirwood, he found the moon high in the sky beaming down upon the still pool that accompanied the heart tree for the past twelve-thousand years. A light breeze ruffled the trees and somehow it felt like a greeting. He closed the distance to the tree, and bent a knee. Pulling his dagger out, he cut across his palm and pressed the wound to the roots, focusing his intentions as Lyanna and Lyarra had told him. He only meant to convey his desire to aide in whichever plans they had. More than anything, he hoped that the Gods had the answers regarding the Direwolves, and if so, that they would find no threat in him. The leaves rustled again, and a calm settled over him.

_The Gods had heard him._

 He sat there for a time, in the quiet calm of the sanctuary for a while longer before he made his way toward the Hunters Gate to meet the men that he had summoned to escort him into the Wolfswood. When they finally rode out, it was with a company of about fifty men all armed with bows and a full quiver of arrows. If they had to engage the direwolves on any level he would prefer that his men had range on their side.

 Going by the reports, he need only ride west about four leagues or so before turning north into the wood. Hopefully, they would hear them before they came upon them, so they won’t be fumbling around the woods looking for a pack of wolves.

 The men rode in relative silence for a time before the horses started to act up, shying away from the path that they were being lead down. He called for his men to halt and dismount, from here they would travel north on foot. A few torches were passed around, and Rickard took the lead.

 As they moved deeper into the woods, Rickard heard the rustle of the wind from the Godswood back home, and he turned in the direction it was coming from. Before he knew it, he was climbing a slow rise that crest a shallow valley, he could see shapes huddled together. He gestured to his men to hold back, too which many of them protested but he had made his decision and he would not risk their lives unnecessarily.

 When he turned back, the first thing he noticed was that their numbers were far greater than what was considered to be normal. The second thing that he noticed was that three of them had broken away from the pack and were approaching him in a semicircle. Rickard slowed his approach, they had seen him so there was no reason to pursue them further. As he waited for them to close the distance, he sent another silent prayer up to the Nameless ones that this was indeed his path and he wasn’t about to do something foolish that would take him too soon from his pack.

 When the trio finally were within reach Rickard took a moment to note their features. One was a pale grey with blue-grey eyes, the other almost black with hints of indigo in her fur, her eyes were silver-grey, the lead wolf was the largest of the three, and he was the one who approached him. He was a grey that matched the walls of Winterfell, and his eyes were a brilliant green. Rickard's heart was thumping in his chest, his hands shaky, but he knew that if he backed down now then all would be lost. He was a Stark of Winterfell, the Direwolf is the sigil of his House if he didn't stand his ground, he did not deserve to call himself a Stark. And the Starks have ran with Direwolves since the time of the Northern Conquest. When his eyes met the eyes of the beast before him, they were inches apart and before he knew it the wolf had pressed his snout against his chest and the rest of the wolves that were gathered lifted their heads up and let out a series of long soulful howls that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

 His sons letter had been correct, the wolves had returned...

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

  The next days went by in a blur… On the night of the third day, the king refused to attend the feast. The following day saw Prince Rhaegar unhorse Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone which secured his place in the final matches where he would face both Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Barristan Selmy who is the reigning champion from the last tourney held in Storm’s End. On the fifth day of the joust Rhaegar was set to face Arthur and if he won, he would face Ser Barristan.

 As the nights dragged on, Lyanna spent her time with her brothers and Howland, allowing Rhaegar the time to meet with the Lords of the Great Houses, Brandon had managed to convince Lord Hoster Tully to see the Prince and Lord Jon Arryn also agreed to hear the prince  out. Though no mention of their marks was made, nor their union, best to let this news out only once her Lord Father had the chance to announce it first. What had shocked her though was how candidly Brandon spoke about their Lord Father's intent to fully support the prince in his efforts.

 Robert had been scarce, she only saw him during the fifth day of the tourney, during the great Seven-sided Melee that Robert won after unhorsing many of the challengers. That night at the feast, he approached her for a dance, and even though she wanted to deny him, she thought it was best to not instigate the Lord. No matter what he said, he could never have her especially once the King made his announcement, and his royal decree was served to Robert and her Lord Father.

 The looks she received from Rhaegar and Ned were enough to make her flush, though somehow she suspected Robert knew that his actions were being weighed by unseen eyes, and he acted the perfect gentleman, at least insofar as his hands that is. She could only roll her eyes as he whispered his hollow promises to love and cherish her into her ear.

 Of course the king hadn’t been present longer than a few moments here and there, staying only as his presence required, but choosing not to tarry a moment longer at the feasts, or in the games. In fact, the only games he had any interest in attending seemed to be the joust, and she’d suspected it was because Rhaegar had managed to secure his position alongside the most celebrated of his kingsguard. Lyanna also hadn’t had a chance to speak with the King since that first day, but she had spent a good amount of time getting to know Princess Elia and Ashara.

 She smiled thinking about the turn her life had taken in such a short time. Making friends had always been easy for her, but never highborn ladies. What she hadn’t expected though was to find in these two women kindred spirits of sorts. Elia was a kind woman, sweet and gentle. She enjoyed reading, though not nearly as much as lyanna had, admittedly. She also enjoys needlepoint, to which Lyanna was firmly against. She'd expected them to find her odd, she thought to feel the outcast, but their differences seemed to balance the trio. With any luck they would help prepare her for when she had to be Queen.

 On the final day of the joust she woke early and called for help to prepare for the day. Howland had told her to prepare herself because the following days would be a whirlwind. Little did he know, her nights had been a whirlwind too. She smiled, remembering the kisses they had shared, both alone in person, and alone in their dreams. She thought more on the way Rhaegar explored her body with his hands and mouth. Never going any further, though not for the lack of trying. At least if it was done in the dreamscape she would still remain a maiden until the day they said their vows, but her prince declined, reminding her that they had no idea what consequences could come from their connected dreams if they made this move before they were joined physically as well. He was right of course, there was something otherworldly about their dreams.

 So instead she spent her nights familiarizing herself with the feel of his lips, the touch of his hands, the contours of his body. Being sure to rid herself of any lingering maidenhood insecurities that she had felt before all of this began.

 She was dressed in a gown the color of ice, mostly silver, but with ice-blue undertones. Rhaegar had it sent to her. She wore her hair down though, so she made sure to have her hair brushed to shining. She had her ladies arrange her curls neatly down her back.

 Today she would be sitting with her family, but Elia and Ashara agreed to sit with her and her kin. The only downside to this is that Ned hadn’t been able to think up a reason for Robert to not sit with them, due to Elia and Ashara joining them as well. So on top of her preparations for the tourney, she also prepared herself for her afternoon with Robert.

 As the finishing touches were applied, Lyanna nibbled on some fruits and nuts that had been sent to her by Rhaegar so that she could break her fast. She never expected him to be so thoughtful, but each day he would go above and beyond to see her needs and wants answered.

 Shortly after her servants left, her brothers Brandon and Benjen arrived to escort her to the tourney grounds.

 “Wow Lyanna,” It was Benjen, and she could tell by the tone of his voice what he was about to say, but for some reason she didn't mind this time. So instead, she smiled as he finished his thoughts. “You look like a winter rose.”

 It was probably the kindest thing anyone could have said to her, and she didn't normally take compliments well, but to be compared to a winter rose was in her opinion the most highest of compliments to be given.

 Especially to a Northern woman.

 “Thank you for your kind words Ben, I shan't forget them. Truly, you honor me.” The look on Ben’s face was one of shock, and she supposed it had to do with her easy acceptance of his praise.

 She looped her arms through both of her brothers offered arms, and let them lead her to the tournament. When they arrived, Ned had just arrived with Ashara and Princess Elia, along with Prince Oberyn and a few others to the grounds. Once greetings were done, they all made their way to their seats, making small talk until the herald called the opening of the games, and the names of the first two challengers.

 The stands were deathly quiet as they waited for the two challengers to take to the field. The first of them to appear was the Prince, dressed in armor black as night the sigil of his House etched into the breastplate and embellished by rubies. A black and crimson cloak hung over his shoulders.

 Ser Arthur came next, armored in the gleaming armor that identified him as a member of King Aerys kingsguard. His white cloak trailing behind him. When the trumpets blasted, she watched as Rhaegar’s midnight black charger rushed toward Ser Arthur’s silver one.

 The first pass say a hit landed from each challenger, the same on the second pass as well. On the third pass, Rhaegar broke his first lance, though Arthur managed to stay atop his mount.

 And so they continued for a time, back and forth and it was clear to all the spectators that both Ser Arthur and Prince Rhaegar were evenly matched. Though Robert sat behind her, and she would randomly hear snide remarks from him about the prince. In the end they both broke a total of eight lances after a total of ten passes and finally on the eleventh round Rhaegar managed to land a sound hit on the center of Arthur’s breastplate and sent him flying into the dirt.

 The crowd erupted in a loud chorus of cheers. _They love him…_ she realized and suddenly she didn't feel so nervous about the task that lay ahead of the prince. If the people love him like this, surely the realm will rally behind him when the time comes to take the throne.

 Across the yard the King sat, surrounded by his kingsguard. Though he gave none of his emotions away, she could see that he was pleased all the same with the performance of his son.   The moment was brief, but she was sure that she caught the King glance her way if for but just a moment. Only before she could react the trumpet blared once more calling everyone to attention once more as Ser Barristan entered the field, and the herald announced the match.

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

  When the trumpet sounded, Smoke took off with a single minded focus. It was as if the horse and he were of a single mind. The experience was completely new to him and somehow, he knew that the Gods had a hand in this new sense of focus he was feeling.

 As his mount came into range of Ser Barristan, everything came into sharp focus for him. His vision took on a red tint, and for just a moment, time slowed, allowing Rhaegar to land his strike with precision. They made two passes before Barristan was able to land a blow, but it made little difference to the prince, he hardly felt it.

 His body was boiling, and all he knew was that loosing was not an option… not today. On the fifth pass, they both landed hits. Barristan was just a moment away from falling from his saddle, but he recovered quickly and they were setting up for the next tilt once more.

 On the last round, Rhaegar chanced a glance toward Lyanna and he saw her give a slight nod, and it was then that he knew the match was his. Sure enough, as their mounts came back into range, Rhaegar planned to switch his hand at the last minute to throw his challenger off balance but in the end it wasn’t necessary, because behind Lyanna in the stands sat Robert Baratheon, and he was shamelessly gawking at Lyanna as she sat in front of him, completely oblivious to his wandering eyes, and just like that the world was at a stand-still. The Gods must have given strength to his arm in that moment, because when his lance connected to Ser Barristan’s chest plate, the sudden intake of breath from the crowd was all that could be heard as the Knight was unhorsed and sent flying into the dirt.

 The crowd was up on their feet in an instant cheering on their prince as he wheeled his mount around toward the King’s Royal box and bowed deeply in a show of respect. His father stood as lord Walter Whent made his way over to announce Rhaegar as their champion.

 “Lords and Ladies,” Lord Whent bellowed out loudly enough for all to hear, “I give you, your champion Rhaegar of the House Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 When he was presented with the laurel of roses, to present to the Queen of Love and Beauty his father finally spoke. “My son, you competed with skill and strength. Today you’ve demonstrated why House Targaryen stands without peer. Whom will you crown as your Queen of Love and Beauty?”

 Taking the crown into his hands, he glanced around the stands trying to not be too obvious but gave up playing games eventually deciding that he didn't care anymore. He turned his mount around and he crossed the yard, heading in the direction of Princess Elia. No doubt that is where most people thought him to be going.

 For a moment even Cersei Lannister perked up as his horse neared her box, but it was not Cersei he had eyes for. His heart beat for one woman only, and Cersei Lannister was but a wallflower in comparison to her. Lyanna owned him completely, and Gods willing this would be just the beginning of a long reign for her.

 As Smoke neared the box where the Starks were sitting, everyone quieted down, and when Rhaegar placed the laurel of winter roses in her lap, it was so still in the stadium that one could have heard a pin drop.

 “Lyanna of the House Stark, I do name you the Queen of Love and Beauty. A crown of Winter Roses to honor the Winter Rose of the North!” he proclaimed loud enough for all to hear.

 Behind Lyanna, Robert turned from a golden stag into one of crimson. Elia on the other hand, who everyone had been watching, turned to Lyanna and took the crown into her hands, then she placed the crown onto her head and then she pulled Lyanna to her feet and presented her to the realm.

 “I daresay there never was a more beautiful Queen to ever have been crowned.” She declared with utter sincerity, and at her words, the entire stadium went crazy.

 Leave it too Elia to know exactly what to do in such situations. The more he thought on it, the more happy he’d become that she had agreed not to go back to Dorne, but stay and serve in King’s Landing once he was on the throne as a member of his council.

 After a few moments, the cheering began to die down and the crowds began to disburse. The King was the first to leave, as expected. But not before sending word to meet him in the Great Hall in two hours time.

 He felt his mark begin to tingle, so he looked up toward Lyanna who was now standing to leave with her brothers, Elia and Ash, and even though he could wait until later to make his request, he decided to call out to Lyanna once more before being forced to depart her company.

 “Lady Lyanna,” he waited for her to acknowledge him.

 She turned when she heard her name and gave him a warm smile, “My Prince.” she returned teasingly.

 “It is custom for the Queen of Love and Beauty to dine at the high table, I would very much like it if you would join us tonight. I would also hope that you will reserve a dance for me.” He left the rest unsaid between them.

 Lyanna, trying not to appear too eager chose not to speak, and instead she inclined her head toward him in confirmation, and Rhaegar knew this was all he was going to get from her right now. Instead he motioned for Arthur and Barristan to follow him back to his tent so that he could change and ready himself to go meet with the King.

 It was about an hour and a half later that he found himself walking toward the castle to answer his summons to meet in the Great Hall. When he entered he found his father seated up on the dais, a cruel smile playing on his lips. When their eyes met, he gestured for Rhaegar to come and stand beside him.

 “My son, you continue to surprise me, but even more so over the past seven days. When I came here I was sure that I was going to find you plotting, and had I not come I'm sure you would have been. But that wolf girl threw your plans through a loop, I can see it all so don't deny it. It's because of this that I am convinced that you and I are more alike than you care to admit. I didn't think you had it in you to claim the Stark girl, and had I known that it would take only a wild nature to bring the dragon out of you I would have called the girl to court long ago.” Rhaegar didn't like the way that his father compared the two of them, and furthermore, his attraction to Lyanna has nothing to do with taking what belonged to someone else. It has nothing to do with laying claim to whatever he desired, but the King didn't know that, so he just remained quiet and let the King finish his speech.

 “I know that look you get when she is around. Yes, I know that look. She is your Joanna…” the King accused, and Rhaegar realized that he wanted no part of this conversation, for obvious reasons, but also because Lyanna is nothing like the late Joanna Lannister…

 “I confess, Your Grace, there is something about the girl that makes my blood boil and makes me feel alive in a way I have never felt for Elia. But I've no intention to act on those feelings.” He hated confessing this to his father, but the King had always been driven by his lust. Trying to convince the King that his son is not experiencing an emotion that he's more than familiar with would be futile.

 “Bah! You're a dragon son, be a dragon. Take what is yours with _fire and blood_ if need be. If you want the girl, then take the girl, and if your weakling wife can't do her duty, I am sure that the Stark girl can.”

 At this Rhaegar’s eyes snapped to attention. There is no way having Lyanna could be this easy, and he almost voiced his thoughts but then he was interrupted by the sound of the herald announcing the arrival of the Lords that had been summoned. They watched in silence as the hall filled, his mind wandering back to the way his father behaved in regard to his lady.

  _Not even her name seems to set him off negatively…_ he mused.

 Once everyone was there, the Hall quieted down to hear the herald announce the reason they all had been summoned. “His Grace, King Aerys II. of his name has summoned all of you here to reaffirm your loyalty to His Grace and to House Targaryen, and afterward he has a few announcements to make.”

  _Clever…_ Rhaegar hadn’t expected this, but he supposed that short of threatening them to stay loyal, this should serve whatever purpose the King is aiming for.

 One by one the Lords approached and bent the knee, some being very specific in their oaths, while others still found more clever ways to get around swearing direct fealty to King Aerys himself. Robert had been the last of them to make his approach and it had not been lost on the King how poorly Robert hid his distaste for the whole thing…

 Finally, when all that had finished, the King rose from his seat and passed two scrolls toward Ser Gerold, who made his way to both Brandon Stark and then Robert.

 “My Lords, inside these scrolls you will find a final decree in regards to the pending betrothal of the Lady Lyanna of House Stark, and to Lord Robert of House Baratheon. His Grace feels that it would be in the best interest of the crown to block this match, and call the Lady Lyanna to court where she will serve as a Lady in waiting to the Princess Elia Martell, and as a ward of the Crown until a more suitable match can be made at the King’s approval.” Ser Gerold paused.

 “My Lord Brandon Stark, the King charges you with delivering word of His Grace’s decree to your Lord Father, the Warden of the North. You will also see that the Lady Lyanna will be prepared to depart for Dragonstone by the end of the tournament.”

 “Yes, Your Grace. It would be my pleasure to deliver your orders to my Lord Father, and I know that Lyanna will be pleased to serve the Princess.” His words almost felt rehearsed, but Rhaegar couldn't care. He knew now that telling them early on was for the best, and it looks like that gamble was paying off, because the King accepted his reply before Ser Gerold turned to Robert.

 “Lord Robert, His Grace feels that the Lady Lyanna was not a suitable match for the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. He feels that the Lady needs refinement, and as such His Grace would like to aide in your search for a proper bride.” The King was testing his cousin, and Robert was failing in his attempts to control his growing rage.

 “His grace has already made overtures to a few Lords whose daughters he feels would be more suitable to your tastes.” Of course, his father knew what he was doing, he was daring Robert to openly defy him, by not only taking Lyanna away from him, but also ensuring that she could never be his under any circumstances. For just a moment Rhaegar had been sure Robert would refuse, but in the end he lowered his head and accepted the King’s decree with barely concealed rage.

 When his father had finally had his fill of toying with his subjects, he dismissed them but bid his Kingsguard and Rhaegar remain behind. Once the last of them was ushered from the Hall, the king announced that he would be departing Harrenhal early the next morning and that he would see Rhaegar back in King's Landing within the fortnight.

 His head was still spinning from the days events when he made his way back to the Great Hall later that evening for the feast celebrating the crowning of the new Queen of Love and Beauty. To his immediate surprise however was Lyanna, who was seated beside his father and the two seemed like old friends, so engaged in their conversation were they.

When his father's eyes fell upon him, the King stood from his chair, silencing the room within seconds. “My Lords and Ladies, join me in welcoming your champion, and his chosen Queen of Love and Beauty in this evenings first dance. Such a beauty should not remain seated all night, don’t you agree?” Servants began moving the tables to make room for dancing.

 “Indeed she is, Your Grace, and such wise advise too. It would be an honor to join Her Grace in a dance.” He responded, bowing his head in respect to his father, then Lyanna, he extended his palm in her direction, hoping she would accept.

 He was playing a role of course, but something about his father was more lucid when she was near him, so he was being careful to not overindulge. Any sane man knows when he is being placated, and if for some reason this version of the King was sane, it would do him naught to inflame his ire any further.

 To his shock, Lyanna gave a response of her own, “It would be a pleasure to share a dance with the mighty dragon prince.” She said, coming around the table to take his arm. Before making way to the floor, they both turned back to his father and bowed once more. Yet he didn’t miss the pleased smile that was etched across his father's face.

 When the music began, the two of them were swept away by the melody of the first dance they had ever openly shared.

 “What are you doing to the king?” He asked her suspiciously.

 “I assure you, I’ve not the slightest idea as to what you refer.” She answered back honestly.

 “It’s like he’s a different person around you. It’s like he’s the version of my father before Duskendale. He wasn’t perfect, but at least back then he could be reasoned with at the very least.” He found himself confessing things that he never dreamed he’d ever talk about.

 They continued in this way until her brother Brandon was tapping on his shoulder to ask permission to dance with her Royal Highness next. Not realizing that the music had ended, he reluctantly acquiesced to his request and that was how they spent the rest of the evening.

 Once the King made his departure, Rhaegar remained for another hour or so before making his own excuses to leave for the night. Making sure to leave instructions with Oswell to send for him when Lyanna was on her way back to her tent.

 He had been back at his tent no more than half an hour when he heard the flap move aside, and warm arms enveloped his waist. He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent. _Winter roses… she still has her crown on._ He turned to face her. Sure enough, her crown was still atop her head, standing in sharp contrast to her dark brown wild curls that framed her face and hung loosely down her back. She had changed before coming to him, now she stood there in her night shift and cloak.

 She wasted not a moment once he stood facing her. Inching up on the balls of her feet, she reached forward and pulled his face to hers, kissing him fervently. Before he knew it, her fingers were undoing the laces of his tunic and pulling the offending fabric from his body, exposing his chest to her.

 “Lyanna, what are you doing?” He husked at her, not wanting her to stop, but too afraid to move any further.

“I’m kissing you, and I’m removing your clothing, don’t be obtuse.” She teased. Bringing her hands to the strings of her cloak, she let it slide to the floor behind her. “I want you, but in person. No dreams tonight. If we must wait, then I would know the feel of your lips on my flesh for true. On this night, you will hold me right here, do you understand?” It was not a plea, nor a question. It was a command from his Queen.

 Her next movement saw the removal of her shift, exposing her supple breasts and her toned body, her thick thighs, toned from years riding astride. The thought made his cock twitch. How he would love to have her sat atop him in that moment.

 He fell to his knees before her, pulling her to him, he pressed his face to her center. “Then I shall do everything within my power to fulfill your needs this night, and all others to come. My Queen.”

  Without hesitation she spread her legs for him, as his hand trailed up her thigh toward the juncture between her legs. Her musky scent was like torture.

 “Rhaegar,” She whined, “don’t tease me, I need you.”

 His body moved of its own volition, lifting her from her feet, he carried her across the tent, and laid her down across his bed, kissing her deeply as she thrust her hips up to grind against his already hard cock.

 His restraint was nearly gone. “Lyanna, we can’t, not yet. You know why.” His voice was pleading, she would be his undoing, perhaps he was already undone by her. It was only made worse when she began pulling at the laces of his breeches, pushing him so that she could sit astride him.

 “Rhaegar, I know that you cannot take me the way I want you to, but there are other ways, are there not? Please?” She begged, and he could almost see tears in the corners of her eyes. “Please Rhaegar, I need this from you,” she said more, but he was already gone. She had won, the moment his name passed through her lips.

 Unconsciously, his hands fell away, and Lyanna finished unlacing his breeches, to free his throbbing cock from its prison. When she was finished, he rolled her onto her back and stood, admiring her naked figure. She bit her bottom lip, and his blood began to sing. His instincts coming into sharp focus.

 “Scoot down and bend your knees.” He commanded. “I want to look upon you .” She was not shy in the least so she did as he bid her with not a moment’s hesitation. Her body was flushed, her breaths labored. Her sex was already wet the dark curls that framed her sex invited him back. He gazed toward her eyes once more, Valyrian steel, the silver almost gone completely. _She is on fire…_ he thought to himself. Her lips were a beautiful shade of red, swollen from their kisses.

 He licked his lips. “I want to taste you Lyanna, is that okay?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper.

 Lost for words, Lyanna simply nodded, before Rhaegar laid his body over hers once more, kissing her long and deeply. As their bodies came together, and his hands found her breasts, his inner dragon roared its approval, lighting him up from the inside out.

 His lips found her breasts, and her hands his hair as she arched her back to offer herself to him. “Whenever I wake up, it’s never the same, Rhaegar.”she murmured to him. “When I think of the way your mouth feels against my skin, I’m left wanting.” Her words were meant to sooth him, to help remind him why she was here. They only encouraged him further.

 He brought his hand between her thighs and found her center hot and dripping wet. “Oh, oh, right there, touch me right there…” she said breathily. When his thumb found the bundle of nerves just above her entrance, her fingers dug deeply into his flesh, and he smiled.

 “Rhaegar—,” she pleaded

 “Quiet now, I’ve got you, just relax.” He murmured back. “Talk to me, Lyanna, tell me what you want me to do, how do I make it better.” He continues as he trailed kisses down her body, his lips and tongue licking at her flesh. Her hands were everywhere, on his back, in his hair, only encouraging his worship of her body. His fingers worked her nub between them, causing her to jump and moan.

 “You’re so beautiful Lyanna,” he whispered between kisses. When he finally reached her sex, he paused to look her over once more laying there sprawled out on his bed… her dark hair framing her flushed cheeks, eyes alight.

“Why did you stop?” She asked him, incredulity heavy in her tone.

 Rhaegar gave her a wicked grin. “Who said anything about stopping? I only meant to survey the state of my prey before I make my move.” His voice was low, threatening, but not in a way that meant physical harm. It didn’t make what he said any less true however. She was indeed his prey tonight. Even if he’d wanted to stop, his inner dragon was awoke and now fully in control, nothing short of devouring her would stop him.

 His eyes narrowed, locked on her own, but there was no fear, nor shyness in them, only lust, want and desire staring back at him. “Then do your worst.” She challenged, and that was all it took. He was on his knees in an instant pulling her closer to him. Before she could get in another word, he pushed her thighs open wide, and spread her pink folds apart looking at her fully for the first time. He wasted not a single moment before kissing her lips, and swiping his tongue across her nub before sucking it between his teeth.

 The moan that escaped her lips was as beautiful as any song he’d ever heard or composed. Her whole body began to shudder, and she made to clamp her legs shut, but he stilled her by placing both palms on her thighs.

 “Don’t, I got you, just try to relax,” he warned her. Indigo eyes locked on Valyrian steel. She nodded her ascent, unable to make use of intelligible words.

 As he continued to pleasure her, he brought his hand back to her sex, inserting a finger deep inside, searching for that sweet spot that would send her over the edge. Her body continued to sing for him, the tune known only to the two of them.

 “You taste so sweet, my love. Is this what you want Lyanna?” He never stopped in his task, paying special attention to the mound of nerves inside her before teasing her clit with his tongue, taking it between his teeth when she stilled. He had never truly expected her to answer, he just wanted to tell her how sweet she was.

 To his satisfaction, she could only nod her approval, so gone was she in all of the sensations she was experiencing for the first time. Though she was unable to enunciate words, she was not unable to communicate her needs, so when she twined her fingers through his hair and met the rhythm of  his tongue Rhaegar knew that she was close.

 She didn’t disappoint either. Within just a few moments more, Lyanna was gasping aloud and calling his name as her body quivered and shook. He let her ride his tongue until she was finished, drinking her sweetness greedily.

 When she finally stilled he moved from the floor to the bed, pulling her with him and dragging the furs over them. He positioned her so that her back was to him, her ass pressed against his hard length but he would worry about that later, this had been for her and he was more than content to serve her needs and her needs alone this night.

 Her body was languid, flushed and still humming from her climax and it was a while before she was able to speak. And when she finally did, he wasn't shocked by what she said first.

 “What about you?” and all he could do was chuckle, which made her turn to look at him with a raised brow.

 “I will be fine, this was for you and I am more than satisfied.” he kissed her passionately, hoping to distract her but he should have known better.

 “Nonsense, my demand was not simply for me, I want all of this. I want to see you as you find your release too, and don't tell me that it isn't possible for men.” she was not going to let him get out of this regardless of how much he assured her that he would be fine.

 Lyanna pushed him to his back and straddled his hips, sliding her hand beneath the fabric of his breeches to take hold of his cock. The coolness of her palm against him was like nothing he had ever experienced before, both igniting him from within and cooling him from without forcing him to sit up so that their chests were flush against the other.

 “Is this okay?” she asked, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth once more.

 “Every time you do that, Lyanna you drive me wild—, don't stop.” He groaned, and then he reached out to her, pulling her face to his so that he could finish what she had started.

 Lyanna rose off of him slightly, and began to use her hand to pump up and down his shaft, pausing to caress the tip from time to time. He was at her mercy, so close to finishing already and all she had done was touch him. She needed no encouragement from him though, and it was as if her hands had always known what to do. Known how to touch him, and to make him come undone.

 “I'm close, Lyanna.” he warned, but she cared not. Instead she increased her pace, taking a firmer grip as she reached the base and then brushing her thumb over his head as she pumped him again and again. When he came she smiled, clearly pleased with herself and she kissed him deeply before she raised her finger to her lips, tasting his seed.

 His eyes went wide, not even Elia had ever made such an effort, yet he couldn't deny how much it made him want to claim her right then and there. She smiled wolfishly, “Don't look so shocked, if you can taste me, why can I not do the same?”

 He laughed then, loud and long. “Will you never cease to amaze me?”

 “I shall endeavor to always bring you joy, no matter the form nor the circumstance. I will only ever strive to please you the way you please me. There is no other way for me, I will not have us defined by standards. You are mine as I am yours.” And that was that, there was naught else to say on the matter.

 “Will you stay a while?” he wasn't ready for her to leave.

 “Aye, I was hoping that you would wake me if I fell asleep here. Before you ask, Ned and Brandon both know that I came to you.” he smiled, it was uncanny how she knew his line of thought so quickly.

 “Very well, I will wake you before dawn should you fall asleep.” he agreed.

 Once he had cleaned himself, he settled back in beside her pulling her close so that she was laying with her head on his chest. At some point his hand found her dark hair, and he began to play with her curls as she drew patterns on his chest, and before long they were both fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just want to thank those of you who have taken the time to comment and support this story in which ever way you can, whether it be positive feedback or constructive feedback. I truly appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts. 
> 
> As some of you can see, I am a slave to love stories. I realize that for a great amount of folks, the tragedy in a story is also the beauty in it, but I myself have lived a love that ended in tragedy and I don't care to write that kind of tale. With that being said, I do not intend to make the relationships that I have committed myself to uncomplicated. No relationship is ever easy.
> 
> With that being said, thank you for being patient with me while I updated this chapter. Im not sure why I struggled with it, but after listening to it a few times, I am happy with what I provided. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and feedback, and please, if you haven't left kudos already do so now.


	20. Earth and Sky, Fire and Ice.

**The She-wolf**

* * *

  Lyanna awoke from a dreamless sleep at the side of her mate. He was sleeping peacefully, one hand still wrapped snugly around her waist, maintaining skin to skin contact even in sleep.

 They were both naked as the days they had been born, having fallen asleep after Lyanna had all but thrown herself at him the previous night. Damn propriety, she couldn’t care less about what people would think.

 _Hang the world_ … she told herself when she’d made up her mind the previous night. They had been marked by the God’s and the God’s had seen fit to allow them to seal their bond. Therefore in her opinion, she’d done nothing improper.

  _Well maybe some of it had been improper…_ but damn if it hadn’t felt glorious, both owning her desires and seeing them fulfilled. Just thinking about it stirred her thoughts once more, and she wanted nothing more than to wake him with encouraging kisses and touches but there was no time for that, Lyanna knew.

 Sighing, she made to pull away from Rhaegar so she could dress and sneak back to camp, but he must have sensed her intent to go, because he tightened his hold on her waist just a bit more.

 “Don’t leave me…” he murmured sleepily.

 _He’s so adorable like this…_ she thought to herself. “I must, it’s not yet dawn and if I leave now, no one will notice me sneaking back to camp.” She responded with a hint of mirth in her tone. She knew her excuse came across as weak, in truth she had been trying to convince herself as much as she had been trying to convince him.

 Reluctantly he relented but came with her as she sat up from her position on the bed. Rather than allow her to stand however, Rhaegar swept her tangle of curls to one side and peppered soft, sensual kisses over her shoulders and neck, causing her to shiver from head to toe.

 “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay just a while longer?” he asked of her, his voice pleading, though his hands never stopped moving as one made its way around her torso to lay at the base of her throat. The other tugged her back so that she sat with her back  flush against his chest, his member which was already hard was pressed firmly against the small of her back.

 She moaned, relaxing into his hold, as his free hand now snaked down between her legs and in between her thighs to her already wet folds. “Rhaegar—,” she choked out as his long elegant fingers brushed over her nub, causing her to jump at the sudden heat that his contact always brings.

 It was almost embarrassing how easily he was able to convince her to give in, knowing that if it were like this between them now, it wasn't like to change once he and she were able to seal their union properly.

 He still held a firm grip on her as he played her like she were his harp, and it didn't take long before she was gasping and shuddering while she rode out her climax in his arms. Her mind reeling from the high his touch gave her, as his words of love and adoration were murmured in her ear.

 That was two nights past, and now Ashara and Elia sat beside her in her tent, the two of them had agreed to help her pack her things, while telling her all about Dragonstone and King’s Landing. The former sounded fascinating, while the latter seemed like a place that has seen very little joy since it was built. Too many ambitions, too many looking to be the next in favor, all doing wicked deeds to get on top.

 Then there was the matter of the King himself, and even though he seemed to be rather mild tempered around her, she wasn't sure if she would enjoy the Red Keep while he yet sat the throne.

 Howland had done his best to explain the situation between Lyanna and King Aerys to the best of his abilities, but in the end it had left her with more questions than answers. “Lyanna, you have to understand, there is nothing documented that can easily explain what happened between you and King Aerys. The best I can do is help you to understand what malady effects the King, and what your own personal gifts represent in light of all of that.” His tone was low and placating but Lyanna could see that he was unsure how to proceed, not having seen this outcome. With not many options available to her, she sat quietly as he explained to the best of his knowledge, the King’s condition.

 He told of how the King was born a happy babe, who grew into an equally happy youth, one who made friends easily, and was considered charming, at one point was even considered as ambitious and charismatic. How the realm had believed that King Aerys would be a great ruler, and how all of that changed following the tragedy of Summerhall. She hadn’t known much of the details, other than the fact that Rhaegar had been born there, amidst the smoke and flames as the great palace burned all around them. That and the fact that Rhaegar believes the land to contain residual magic that lingers from the ritual that had gone wrong, and the blood that had been sacrificed to bring dragons back into the world had left its mark on the earth. To her knowledge, the King who was then a Prince was on Dragonstone at the time with his father.

 Howland went on to explain the slow decline of the king and his increasing obsession with fire, stating that his blood had been tainted by the magic being wrought by King Aegon and the sorcerers he had brought to Westeros to aid him in this endeavor. He went on to say that the same issue presents itself in the Queen’s pregnancies, which is why she has such difficulty carrying healthy babes… which left her with another series of questions but she held onto them for a later time.

 He went on to explain how under normal circumstances dragons thrive in fire, but the King’s fire is not a natural fire and thus it burns uncontrolled. Then the conversation took a turn that Lyanna had not expected. His words still rang in her head as clear as a bell, “I'm sure by now you realize that both you and Rhaegar have marks that represent two opposing elements. His is fire and his mark burns hot, while yours; Lyanna represents Ice and burns like only the cold can.” She had known this from the moment that they had touched, but until then she hadn’t thought much about it, but when he said the words the answer clicked for her.

 “He had a reprieve from the fire because of my ice.” She announced as soon as understanding came. Howland merely nodded in agreement. “But does that mean I can keep the king from going completely mad?” her voice sounded hopeful. Surely if her ice affected him so, that was a good sign.

 Unfortunately, the next words that Howland spoke dashed her hopes in their entirety, “I wish it were so simple but, I do not think it works like that.” Lyanna felt her heart sink at his words, but sat in silence as he continued to explain.

 “The king’s madness is more than just a symptom you see. He could have lived his entire life with it never having made its appearance, but all that changed for him at Duskendale. I have no knowledge of what took place over the course of the year that he had been held as hostage, but I do know that the sane part of him had been broken within the cells of the Dun Fort. Your power can treat his madness, bring some sort of rest and reprieve from the inferno that is consuming him, but short of a soul bond with a maiden made of ice, nothing can temper his flames permanently.”

 It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but his words did give her some hope all the same. Even if she couldn't cure the king, surely she could help by just being there… but then she wouldn't be there, she’d be on Dragonstone. Her heart sank a bit at the thought of leaving the realm to his unchecked madness.

 She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of her tent flap opening, only to find Ben entering with a look in his eyes that told her he was up to something.

 “What is it?” she questioned suspiciously.

 “Brandon asked me to come and bring you and your company to meet him at his tent, he wants to go over last minute details now that the tourney officially closes tomorrow.” the pup explained.

 It made sense, now that she thought about it. So she made to stand and replied, “Very well, I'll come,” and then she turned to Ash and Elia. “Would you care to join us?” she questioned. She couldn't very well expect them to come along just because Benjen was sent to fetch them. To her surprise, Elia was the first to stand, and Ashara followed behind shortly after.

 “You can't get rid of us so easily Lyanna,” Elia teased and it made Lyanna smile. She hadn’t expected such an easy transition between herself and Elia, but she was glad for her companionship.

* * *

**The Stag Lord**

* * *

  He was going to kill someone. Preferably that mad fucking dragon and his meddling dragonspawn.

  Surely Brandon Stark hadn’t meant what he said about sending Lyanna to court. He needed to speak with Ned.

  _Surely there’s a plan in place?_

  Unless they had already known about this… _could they have already known?_ Robert wasn’t sure if Ned was capable of deception, his honor was too deeply bred into him to be capable of such a thing.

  Brandon on the other hand, hardly seemed surprised by the news, but if Brandon had already known that would mean Ned had to have been aware too. Somehow the lingering doubt didn’t sit right with him.

  He’d been fully intent on showing Ned and Lyanna that he was capable of changing. And now that mad fucker thinks he can just write some words on a sheet of paper and the Stag will just accept it without a word of protest? Damn all that, he damn well would protest about it, and Lyanna will be his. Even if that means ridding the realm of a dragon or two… and anyone else who thinks to get in his way.

 He found Ned walking toward his camp and quickly approached. “Ned, can we talk?”

 Ned gave a puzzled look but then waved him forward indicating for him to follow. It was only a moment before Ned’s voice cut through the tense silence between them. “I assume this is about Lyanna?” He asked in a resigned tone.

  _Had he been so transparent?_

 “Ned, he can’t do this, can he? Surely your father won’t allow this to happen!” He proclaimed.

 Ned sighed before he replied. “Robert, you don’t seem to understand. It is already done. My father instructed us to make sure the king knows that he has the full support of House Stark. Brandon was charged to speak with my father's voice in all matters of state, and as our father's heir, he represents him in this matter. And besides, you swore before all the lords in attendance to accept the King's decree. There is no going back from that Robert… not without being an oath breaker. And should that be the case, I’ll thank you now to leave Lyanna out of it.”

 Bugger that, he wanted to hear none of it. Ned obviously couldn’t see what was happening here. The naive fool. “Ned, open your eyes, the dragonspawn means to keep your sister,  _My bride,_ as his mistress! You bloody honorable northern fools are gift wrapping her and shipping her off to the dragon's lair without so much as a second thought!” He roared.

 The cold look Ned gave him almost stopped him dead in his tracks, shooting ice shards down his spine. “That’s enough Robert! Lyanna is not yours nor has she ever been. You have been fooling yourself into believing a lie. A lie that was built, not by myself nor Lyanna. This was a lie built by you and told to you by yourself, at the word of an ambitious maester. Leave Lyanna out of this, as you and I both know that your reaction is about you being denied what you set your mind to, and it has nothing to do with what she wants. Because in truth, you already know that Lyanna does not desire you nor does she desire your proposed match. For you to even suggest that Lyanna would play mistress to the prince only proves how little you actually know her. No one will ever force Lyanna into playing a role she is uncomfortable in, and with your propensity for bedding anything in your path, coupled with Lyanna’s distaste for your ways, I’ve no doubt that she would geld any man who'd dare try to make her into his whore.” He snarled the last word.

 Robert could see that he’d struck a nerve, but he could also tell that he would have no luck convincing Ned of the prince’s indecent intentions toward Lyanna. What’s more, he obviously hadn’t let go of the matter with maester Walys. He needed to think, he needed to come up with a plan before he did anything else…

 “Will you ride north with me to speak with your father?” Remembering now how Ned had mentioned awaiting his father's word for travel plans.

 “Actually—,” Ned paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll be traveling south with Lyanna. I mean to see her safely settled into court, and then I’ll be joining Brandon at Riverrun for the announcement of their wedding.” He paused again, clearly mulling something about in his brain, and Robert was losing his patience with the man.

 “Spit it out Ned.”

 “I think you should travel back to the Vale. Don’t give the King a reason to question your loyalty Robert.” Ned warned.

 Robert knew that Ned could see the wheels turning in his mind… _Damn the man for his ever observant nature._

 _“_ I hear that my Lord Father will be traveling south in a few moon turns, if you would speak to him Robert then let him come to you. Do not go north, that will only cause talk and the King's Master of Whispers has eyes and ears everywhere. How do you think the King knew about your proposal?” Ned quickly added.

 Rather than give voice to his thoughts he nodded his head in acceptance, albeit reluctantly. Even though he definitely does not accept this shit that the mad fucker thinks he’s going to accomplish.

 He wasn’t sure where to go from here, but regardless of what Ned had said, that damn dragon had crossed the wrong person. Perhaps the rest of the lords in the realm would be content to jump up and down to the dragons song, but his own ancestors helped the dragons take Westeros and its high time they remember how heavy the hammer can fall.

* * *

**The Quiet Wolf**

* * *

  The following day saw the King's departure as well as the axe throwing contest and mummers show which Ned and Ashara had attended together.

 Now that the main competition was over, the next few days allowed for more freedom to spend his time with Ashara and to help the prince plan for the meeting between his father, Lord Arryn and Lord Tully. As far as the other lords, Ned wasn’t sure.

 Robert had approached him the day after the King announced his decision on the matter of his proposal to Lyanna, as Ned had expected. His words still left a bit of unease coiling within his gut. It was clear that regardless of the words he spoke aloud, Robert was not likely to let this matter go, and something needed to be done to curb his rage. Ned could only hope that once the truth was out, Lord Arryn would be able to help him see reason.

 He was currently on his way to meet with Brandon and Ben. With the tourney wrapping up soon, they would all be departing and none in the direction that they’d imagined they would be heading when they first arrived to Harrenhal.

 He found Brandon in his tent, Benjen already there when he entered. They had been talking about home when he finally took his seat.

 Brandon was the first to break the ice. “Now that the king has made his announcement and Lyanna has officially been summoned to court, all of our plans will be changing. As you both know, I was expected to travel back to Riverrun to finalize plans for my wedding to the Lady Catelyn however, with both you and Lya going south, that leaves Ben to go north and sit as the Stark in Winterfell when father rides south for Moat Cailin.

 It made sense, though Ned didn’t see a reason to rush Ben back home. It was likely that they would be heading to Winterfell directly from Dragonstone but he kept his thoughts quiet. Even though Ben would be no trouble, Ned was sure that Brandon’s decision was born out of concern for his little brothers safety.

 Benjen on the other hand wasn’t so willing to accept his fate, and Ned watched in awe as the young pup tried to convince the wild-wolf to allow him to travel with Lya, Ned and Howland. But Brandon never faltered, he down right refused to send three of their Lord Father's four children all the way south with the prince to the court of a mad dragon.

After the discussion about travel had been decided, Brandon and he spent some time discussing Ashara and Catelyn, marriage and duty. It was clear to Ned that the idea of settling down still made his brother upset.

 “I wish I could just walk away from all this Ned. I’m not meant to be shackled down. I’m supposed to run, ride, hunt, you know? Be true to my nature. Every bone in my body is urging me to bolt, cross the Narrow Sea, join a sellsword company…” his thoughts began to trail off, causing Ned to chuckle.

 “It would seem that you and Robert are much better suited for one another, than he and I. I do suspect that he’d gladly run off and spend his life drinking, fucking and fighting any day over attending to his duties. You’ve gotta let this go Bran. I’m sure that the Lady Catelyn is lovely and you’ve got some time yet before you’ll be Lord of Winterfell. Gods be kind, father has another twenty years in him.” He was only half kidding, his father had recently celebrated forty name days. And long lives were rare, especially for northmen. The truth was, Brandon wasn’t ready yet, mayhap fatherhood would help to calm him, but until such a time Brandon would need their father's guidance.

 They spoke for a while longer before Ned and he departed company. Mostly about Ash and himself and when they planned to seal their unions, which he had to agree was a good question in truth. Howland had only told him to be ready at a moment’s notice and that had been days ago. He’d hardly had the chance to speak with Howland in the days since.

Little did he know however that the crannogman has every intention to seek him out, and sooner than he had expected.

 It was on the evening of the ninth day when Ned was finally able to speak with Jon Arryn. He hadn’t been happy with the fact that Ned wouldn’t be returning with he and Robert to the Eyrie but Ned had explained to him that it was time for him to return to his pack, and to his duties as a son of the north, and  soon to be a husband. He however did take the time to impress upon Lord Arryn how effected Robert had been by the king's orders, beseeching him to help calm the man before he made any hasty decisions.

 Of course Jon Arryn gave his word, but Ned could tell that his foster father still wasn’t sure about the King or the Prince, claiming that his actions were foolish, also noting that with the King's own decree being announced following the Lyanna's crowning, only went to further support Robert's assertion that this was done with more selfish purposes in mind. Ned couldn't deny that there had been more personal intentions behind the princes behavior, but this story wasn’t his to tell, not yet. Instead he told lord Jon the only thing he could.

 “I’m not sure what you think you know, My Lord, but Robert was never promised my sister. My father never agreed to the match nor did he have any intention to do so.” He must have said something that Lord Arryn was unaware of, because the look of utter astonishment that was planted on his face was one Ned had never seen before.

 Apparently, Robert had also told Jon that his union to Lyanna was as good as a done deal and Ned wasn’t sure what to make of it all. He only hoped that his father had a better understanding of the correspondence between Robert and maester Walys by now.

 Before departing ways, Ned made sure to impress upon Lord Jon his opinion of Prince Rhaegar’s character, and his belief that he could be a worthy king. Someone worthy of at the very least, being heard out. Jon promised to think on all they had discussed and he promised that he would come to meet with his father once he received word of the place and the date.

 This was the best possible outcome, Ned knew and he was glad of it. He was no expert at playing the Game of thrones, but short of a flat out refusal, this had been the best case scenario.

 Jon pulled Ned into a tight embrace before taking his leave, knowing that it could be a while before they see each other once more. Being that he and Robert would be departing for the Vale on the morrow, the entire thing felt bittersweet to him. Bitter at the thought of being left behind, but sweet because he was going home, finally. He was going home to rejoin his pack as he should have long ago.

 He was just getting ready to lay down a few hours later when he heard the flap of his tent being brushed aside to admit Howland who was being trailed by the prince. Rhaegar was cloaked in darkness, with a black hood and cloak to cover his hair. His eyes the color of the night sky.

 “What’s going on? Why do you two look like you’re about to do something dangerous?” Ned couldn't help but ask. The prince arched a brow and gave a wicked smile that made Ned curious.

 “Rest assured, if we don’t do things right it could very well be dangerous. Luckily for us, the God’s favor our cause. Come, it is time.” He paused, considering for a moment something known only to him. “Unless you prefer to wed her in the typical northern fashion.”

 Suddenly Ned understood what it was that Howland and the prince had come for. _The Thief is in the moonmaid…_  Quickly Ned got to his feet, throwing a dark cloak around his shoulders, he gestured for them to lead the way. He couldn’t believe this was happening!

 “How will I get Ashara? She’s within the castle, isn’t she?” Ned asked, a bit nervous.

 Rhaegar turned to look at him as he walked, “The Lady Ashara and your sister are both in her tent. Arthur is standing guard, and Elia is with them as well.” He answered, and Ned nodded his understanding.

 He should be nervous, but somehow he wasn’t. Ever since he’d lain eyes on Ash, he knew beyond  a shadow of doubt that his future was tied to hers. And unlike Brandon, he couldn't wait to claim Ashara as his own.

* * *

**The She Wolf**

* * *

  Once they were all cloaked and ready to face the night air, Lyanna followed her brother out into the night. Outside, the air was crisp, more so than it had been over the past ten days since they had arrived at Harrenhal and Lyanna breathed it in deeply. It had the scent of winter… and just like that, Lyanna found herself calmed by the thought that she had been right yet again. The stars were bright in the sky, hardly a cloud to be seen. It was in this moment that she saw it; _the Thief._ The red planet the free folk claim to be lucky was nestled comfortably in the embrace of the Moonmaid. She smiled, knowing that it wouldn't be long now but she had no time to point it out to Ashara because suddenly she heard the sound of horses approaching her and her companions and she braced herself, fear suddenly seizing her.

 “Ben, something is wrong.” she whispered, trying not to scare Ashara and the Princess, but Benjen just smiled at her.

_What the fuck is the matter with him?_

  She was about to smack some sense into him when she was yanked from her spot and hoisted over the back of a horse and without so much as a word she was being carried off at such a speed she could not tell which way she was heading.

 A million thoughts raced through her mind as her captor rushed toward some unknown location, until she noticed the horse that had been carrying her. ‘ _Smoke’,_ she turned her head to catch a glimpse of the masked man who was holding his reins. Long elegant fingers, dressed all in darkness, eyes that were so dark they also appeared to be black, and then she knew it for true. It was Rhaegar, and he was stealing his woman. Although she should be fighting him as custom mostly has it, she had done all her fighting before she chose to seal her bond with him. Now she just wanted to give in and surrender to her captor.

 When the horse finally slowed, they were approaching the bank of the God’s Eye. Brandon Howland and Oswell were already there waiting for them to arrive. Behind her, Ned approached with Ashara in the same state that Lyanna had found herself in. They were followed by Arthur and Elia and then Benjen.

 Brandon approached, aiding Rhaegar in an attempt to help Lyanna to her feet, while Arthur helped Elia down and then went to help his sister as well. Once everyone was on solid ground, Howland finally spoke.

 “For thousands of years, men have inhabited the lands known as Westeros, but before man were the Singers and their brothers the Giant's, dragons and direwolves. Above all, there was song. The first peoples of Westeros, known to all as the First Men created a link that united the singers and men, and in our greatest time of need they fought alongside one another to drive back the darkness that intended to consume the memory and the fires of humanity. Many generations later the singers sang a new song, this one a song of balance. A union of Ice and Fire and of the joining of the heavens and the earth. Are all of you ready to fulfill this destiny? To bring about an everlasting spring?” he asked the four of them who had been marked.

 Lyanna wasn't sure what to make of Howland's words but little did it matter to her at any rate. She was already tied to her mate, regardless of the formalities. What she hadn’t expected though was the arrival of the septon who served at Harrenhal's own sept, but she said nothing.

 The lake was blanketed by a thick fog, the island in its center completely invisible to the curious eyes of travelers. The only thing that could be seen at all were the tops of the Weirwood trees that could not be obscured by the fog, so tall they stretched. Red hands, greedily reaching for the sky.

 They sailed over the still surface of the water for what must have been hours, Brandon and Ben sat beside her, keeping her distracted from what lay ahead. She had no dress nor cloak, she had not been prepared at all, and she could not help but think about the fact that her father wasn't there. She could only hope that he forgave her for not telling him about her mark and maybe when they got back to Winterfell, they could have another ceremony just for father.

 When they finally docked, Howland was the first of them to touch the ground. She wasn't sure if it was the island or Howland, but no sooner was he on land, the fog that had cloaked the isle pushed outward toward the banks, unveiling the Isle of Faces to people who were not of the blood of the green men, for the first time in what must have been over a century if the history was to be believed.

 The isle was quiet, but Lyanna could feel the eyes of the Gods looking upon her and she suddenly felt the urge to give her thanks to them for allowing her this opportunity. Ashara stepped up beside her, the look on her face one of absolute shock and wonder.

 “I've never seen anything like this,” she confessed.

 “I doubt many do,” Lyanna responded, but she was curious. If memory serves correctly, Ashara's line and origin dates all the way back to the crossing of the Arm of Dorne. Her line was of the First Men, just like she and Ned. “Ashara, do you keep with the Old Gods? You have the blood of the First Men running through your veins just as we do…”

 Ashara shook her head, which confused Lyanna even more, but Ashara quickly expanded upon her answer. “Dorne has kept with the faith of the Seven since the time we were populated by the Andals. By the time Nymeria conquered Dorne, most of her people were Andal in origin, so rather than change this, she took Mors Martell as her prince consort and joined the Roynish customs with that of her husband who was also of Andal blood. As for Starfall, we built our house atop the remains of a falling star. No tree has ever grown within our keep that we’ve not planted ourselves. Do you have a weirwood that we can bring to my brother?” she asked, half teasing but Lyanna knew that Ashara was closer to getting her wish than she actually knew.

 “Do you feel the Gods?” she asked no one in particular. The breeze picked up, rustling the blood red leaves of the ancient weirwoods ever so slightly, as if they had been greeting her and everyone else.

 Once everyone was safely on dry land, Howland gestured for them to follow him deeper into the grove of trees. Every step she took she could sense that her destiny was approaching. She knew this place. She had walked these woods before. The night that she dreamt of the altar and the cup. She’d had other dreams since then, but she had only been here the once.

 Not before long she noticed a pull coming from three different locations on the isle. One from the north and another from the south, but the one Lyanna was most intent to go to was approaching quickly. She was just now starting to see the outline of the grove lit up by small torches that had been placed sparingly around the enormous trunk of what could only be the World Tree.

 Howland stopped just before Lyanna could see the altar that she knew was just on the other side. When he turned to look at the four of them who had come this night to seal their unions through words and deeds.

 “It won't be long now, I hope you all are prepared.” Howland intoned, yet it was Rhaegar and Ned who seemed to understand what he’d meant.

 Rhaegar looked behind them and motioned for her older brother, Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell to come forward. Lyanna hadn’t noticed before now, but they seemed to be carrying a few bundles. “We knew that neither of you would be prepared, so we did our best to prepare for you.” he explained, taking the bundle that Bran had been holding and undoing the ribbon before passing it to her.

 The moment the cloak was revealed, she gasped in shock. It was absolutely beautiful, and she had no idea how or when they had the time to have it made but she couldn't have asked for something more perfect. The cloak itself was a deep grey, the color of the walls of Winterfell trimmed with white fur with the snarling direwolf of her house embroidered in the same color silver that lined her outer irises. There was nothing fussy about it, no jewels or extra embroidery. It was exactly as she would have wanted it to be, had she given any thought at all to it. “Thank you.” she said, wiping a traitorous tear from the corner of her eye before anyone could see.

 “It was Elia who made it for you,” Rhaegar announced, gesturing for Elia to step forward but Lyanna didn't give her a chance to move an inch before she flung her arms around her shoulders and hugged her tightly.

 “You’ve no idea how much this means to me, and how much I will always treasure it and you for this Elia. I hope that one day I will have the chance to repay you for all the kindness you have shown me in such a short time.” She would ask the gods to bless her and this babe and keep them safe. It was likely a selfish thing to ask for, because the truth was her wish was for herself, for she was not ready to lose this woman who had become so dear to her. No matter how at peace she claimed to be with the idea of trading her life for the life of her babe.

Next to them Ser Arthur approached Ned, handing him the bundle that he had been holding as well, and she watched the same process she herself had just been through be repeated once more. Brandon approached and took the cloak, and fastened it around her shoulders with a snarling direwolf pin.

 She hadn’t even noticed when Howland had slipped away, but when he returned he stood with two,  _people…,_ if that was even correct, but she had never met them before, for surely she would have remembered faces as remarkable as these.

 “I would like to introduce you to Root and Brook.” Howland motioned first to the one with eyes a brighter green than any she’d ever seen before. His had horns that sprouted from his head that were the color of the bark of a weirwood and he was of a size with Howland. Beside him stood another, this one female, her eyes a golden yellow, hair as white as snow. Though neither appeared to be particularly old, Lyanna could see that they held an age about them. The look in their eyes suggested that they had seen many and more years on this earth than any of them had collectively.

 Not sure how to greet one such as a Green Man, Lyanna nodded and curtsied her greeting. “It is a pleasure to be welcomed here on this island that is so sacred to our Gods.” the words were true, even if they had been unnecessary, and lyanna couldn't deny the desire to speak them aloud at any rate.

 The trees rustled again, and the two Green Men who stood before her looked to one another and nodded an unspoken understanding before they returned their gaze to her and took both of her hands in theirs.

 “Lyanna Stark, daughter of Ice, child of Winter.” This was as much a greeting as it was confirmation of something she yet had all the answers to, but their tone sounded almost hopeful. Next they turned to her mate. “Rhaegar Targaryen, son of fire, child of smoke.” they intoned, reaching for his hands and joining them with her own. “Follow us, your union will take place following the union of earth and sky.” Something about the way she said it made Lyanna wonder why the earthbound would need to be tied to the sky. She chanced a glance back toward her brothers, only to see them wave her forward.

 She followed beside Rhaegar, as the two guardians lead them toward the largest weirwood that she had ever seen. Even the image she’d had in her dream did not do the one in front of her justice. For even if all of them present linked their hands together and circled the base they still wouldn't be able to lock hands together. Above in the branches were hundreds, if not thousands of ravens, that made no move nor sound as they approached and made their way around to look straight into the face of the Gods.

 It was there, right where she had remembered it from her dream that she found the altar made entirely of the roots of the Gods Tree, the bowl that held the seed pods still securely sat in wait.

 The next thing that she noticed was that the septon who had come with them from Harrenhal was already standing before the Heart Tree awaiting everyone else.

* * *

  **The Falling Star**

* * *

 Everything was happening so quickly. Less than a year ago, she woke up to a searing pain in her wrist, only to find that she had been marked by the Gods less than a fortnight ago. She has no complaints, nor would she want to change a thing. But that didn't change how surreal it all felt, especially in times like these.

  The last few days had given her time to put more perspective on their situation. Ned was everything and more than she could have ever dreamed of. A bit shy, but she found that she loved him more for not bending to her will every time she would attempt to seduce him. And even though he was never anything less than a perfect gentleman, he always found a way to leave her content, albeit burning for the moment that was almost at hand.

 They were standing on the Isle of Faces, Arthur beside her. Before her, Ned stood in front of the largest weirwood tree that she had ever seen. Beside him stood Howland, their guide, and Septon Pater. Howland was the one to open the ceremony, as the voice that represented the Gods in this.

 “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”

 “Ashara of the House Dayne, a maiden true born and noble comes here to be wed.” Arthur intoned.

 “And who comes to claim her?” Howland asked, prompting Ned. His voice had taken on an age, making him sound somehow older and more authoritative.

 “Eddard of the House Stark, second son to Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?” Ned asked.

 “Arthur of the House Dayne, who is her brother by blood, the Sword of the Morning and kingsguard to the House of Targaryen.”

 Howland stepped back and allowed Septon Pater to step forward. “You may now cloak the bride, and bring her under your protection.”

 Ned approached as Arthur removed the cloak that identified her as a Dayne of Starfall, only for Ned to replace it with a different one. One that she hadn’t noticed until now, but would treasure always. It was similar to the one that Lyanna was given, though the grey was not as deep, and the Direwolf was embroidered in white. The only difference was that this one had a falling star embroidered above the direwolf, which was oddly similar to their marks. Ned placed the cloak around her shoulders, claiming her as a Stark until the last of her days.

 Once he was done, they both turned back to the septon. “In the sight of the Seven,” he proclaimed.

 “And of the Old Gods,” Howland added.

 “We hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.” he finished.

  And so they found themselves gazing into each others eyes, speaking the vows of the Seven in unison. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his, I am hers, and she is mine, and he is mine, from this day, until the rest of our days.” they finished at the same time.

 “Then let it be known from this day forward that Ashara of House Dayne, and Eddard of the House Stark are one Heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

 Howland spoke once more, “Come forth and pray for the Gods blessing.”

 Together they both walked toward the Gods Tree and knelt, avoiding the altar all together. They faced the tree and she took the knife that had been offered to them by Howland. Unsure what to do, she passed the blade to Ned and watched as he sliced the meat of his palm and did the same for her before she had a chance to protest. Then Ned was guiding their bloodied palms toward the bark of the tree in offering.

 When they were done, both stood and ned proclaimed, “With this kiss, I seal my vow.” and then his mouth was upon hers, hot and hungry and demanding. The kiss was familiar yet new, this kiss was the kiss of a wolf who was claiming his mate, and the thought thrilled her more than she could have imagined.

 It ended just as quickly as it had begun, but it didn't matter because he was hers, and she was his, and soon they would make it official in all the ways that it truly mattered. Ned took her hand in his and lead her away from the heart tree, allowing for the Prince to step forward and take the space that he had previously been occupying.

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

  There were no words to describe all of the thoughts going on in his head while he stood silently waiting for their turn to swear themselves to one another.

 The past ten days had gone by in both a blur and agonizingly slowly. All just to get to this specific point in time. The moment that their destiny would be fulfilled. Tonight they would conceive a son, their promised prince. For why else wait for the Thief to be in the right position if not to bless their union with the completion of the promise.

 Tonight, after everything was official, they would remain on the isle with the Green Men, while all but Oswell and Arthur returned back to the castle. In the morning they would prepare to depart and return back to King's Landing and to the future that already seemed more hopeful than it had the previous days.

 He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard her approaching on the arm of her brother Brandon. She wore the most radiant smile upon her face, and his heart began to beat just a bit faster than it had been. Once this was all over, there would be no lavish feasts, no hosting lords from all across the Seven Kingdoms, all with a foolish hope that they would be so impressed by the display of wealth, that they would mistake it for power and thus never question their reign. Which of course worked about as well as negotiating with a mad dragon. Unless of course the person negotiating was Lyanna, the daughter of Ice.

 Before he knew it, the ceremony had begun, and he had to clear his thoughts. He would not be in his head during one of the most important moments of his life. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” The crannogman asked.

 “Lyanna of the House Stark, a maiden trueborn and noble, daughter of Ice, and child of winter, comes here to be wed.” Brandon responded.

 “And who comes to claim her?” Howland inquired, and Rhaegar found himself eagerly stepping forward.

 “I, Rhaegar of the House Targaryen. First son of the King and Queen, Lord of Dragonstone, Crown Prince to the Seven Kingdoms, son of fire, child of smoke. Who gives her?”

 “Brandon of the House Stark, who is her brother by blood and heir to Rickard of the House Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

 Howland stepped toward the altar that had thus far gone unused and he motioned for him and Lyanna to join him. “Daughter of winter, do you claim this man through ice?”

 “I claim this man through Ice.” Lyanna intoned, resolute in her decision.

Turning to Rhaegar, he asked a similar question. “Son of the Dragon, do you claim this woman through fire?”

 “I claim this woman through fire.”

 Root and Brook approached them now, with a cup of bronze and Rhaegar vaguely remembered Lyanna mentioning having drank from this cup in her dream sequence. On the altar lay a dagger, also made of bronze. Having already seen what transpired between Ashara and Ned, Rhaegar understood what he had to do.

 Once the cup was placed before him, Howland spoke again. “You must drink from the cup of Ice and Fire to seal your vow and bind the Dragon and the Direwolf for all time.”

 Rhaegar didn't hesitate, pulling the cup to his lips and drinking down the bitter yet sweet liquid within before he passed it to Lyanna, watching as she did the same. When they were both done, he removed Lyanna’s cloak and passed it to her brother who stood close by wasting no time to replace it with the cloak of his own House, all black, only modified to match their combined marks, just as Ned had done with Asharas.

 They turned back to Howland who had moved aside to allow Septon Pater to officiate the portion of the ceremony representing the Faith of the Seven.

 Reaching his hand toward Oswell, he was presented with a piece of black velvet. Within the material was a simple circlet that Rhaegar had made for Lyanna following her crowning of love and beauty.

 The tiara itself was wrought in pure silver, the bands representing the arms of a Weirwood. Each twisting around each other, thicker in some places than others. Each arm that broke free from the mold was adorned by amethysts and sapphires, the main ornamentation curved downward to rest against her forehead on the right side was the Direwolf of her house, on the left the Dragon of House Targaryen, both joined at the neck as equals.

 No sooner had he placed the crown atop her head, did the Septon begin. “In the sight of the Seven,” he started.

 “And of the Old Gods,” Howland intoned.

 “We hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” As he said the words, he bound their hands with the ribbon he had used to tie her wedding cloak. Something was different this time around though. He could feel the finality in the words and the action, as if the Gods themselves were binding them as one, not only physically but spiritually. It was almost magical, this oath. He knew this to be true because this reaction was not present the first time he had found himself before the High Septon swearing an empty oath to a woman who deserved more. Nevertheless, he only felt a sense of completeness and clarity wash over him.

 “Look upon one another and say the words,” the septon prompted.

And once again they found themselves speaking in unison as they intoned the words that sealed the oath to the Seven who were One. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers, I am his, and he is mine, and she is mine, from this day until the end of our days.”

 “Then let it be known, from this day forward that Lyanna of the House Stark, and Rhaegar of the House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” The septon finally finished.

 It was finally time to ask the Gods for their blessing so he didn't hesitate to cut his palm and place it upon the bowl before he passed the dagger to Lyanna and she did the same. Together they prayed to the nameless ones, his prayers were not for him but for her, for their future, and their family and the strength to serve in whichever capacity they see fit.

 At some point everyone must have departed because when they both opened their eyes, everyone had gone. Leaving them to seal their union in privacy. For their journey would begin in this very spot… and it would start this very moment.

 “With this kiss, I seal my vow.” He whispered loud enough for the Gods to hear, and then his lips were upon hers… hungry, desperate even, and hers accepted him eagerly.

 Every nerve in his body was alive and on fire, pushing him on. Every touch from her set his blood to boiling and he knew now that if he didn’t slow her down, he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer.

 Lyanna, however had other things in mind, as he found her hands tugging at the laces of his breeches, never parting her lips from his.

 “Rhaegar, I’m only going to say this once. I’m a wolf, not a Lady, and you’re a dragon, not a prince. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile, claim me now or I swear to you, I will find a way to make you regret it.” Her eyes were bright in a way that was unusual and they held the look of a predator in search of prey. He could do naught but nod his agreement.

 Lyanna stepped back then, lifting her hands to remove her cloak, and then she moved to pull at the laces that held her gown in place. Seeing this, Rhaegar made to stop her. If this were to be their first time, he would see to her needs himself, including the removal of said clothing.

 Turning her so that her back was to him, he reached out, and begun to tug at the laces of her corset, pulling at the strings and stretching them so the bodice now sat loosely against her skin. He had every intention to savor the moment but the sight of her milky white skin bathed in moonlight awoke a primal need within him to claim her.

_Perhaps this is the reason her eyes look more predatory? Could it be the ritual?_

Before he realized, his mouth was at her neck, his hands ripping away at her skirts, in an attempt to rid her of her many barriers. Within moments, she was standing there in her shift moaning his name wantonly as the night air caressed her naked and exposed flesh.

 He moved without thinking, lifting her and setting her body down upon the Weirwood altar and kneeling between her legs.

 “Why are you still dressed?” She husked at him, clearly disapproving of his state of dress. In truth he had completely forgotten about his own clothing.

 He shrugged his response and then added, “I’m hungry for you,” and he was, almost starving if it were at all possible.

 “Aye, and I you. But that won’t help us, take off your clothing Rhaegar. I want you, now.” She whined at him. And so he found himself removing his shirt, and finishing the job that she had begun on his breeches, so that they now hung loosely around his hips. When he came back to her, she had sat up and was watching him intently.

 As much as he wanted to savor every moment of this, it was clear to him that Lyanna did not, she was practically squirming in her place from anticipation and need. He reached for her, and she pulled him down to sit beside her before climbing into his lap and straddling his hips.

 “Make me yours.” She commanded him, and after that the Dragon was in control, while the man watched on in awe and wonder.

 His hands circled her waist, ripping away her small-clothes, exposing her sex, her hands freed his cock at the same time. One hand found her breast, and he rubbed a calloused thumb over her nipple, eliciting a breathy moan from her. He snarled in response, claiming her mouth hungrily, causing her to rock her hips against his length.

 Without realizing it, he had lifted Lyanna up and laid her back upon the altar once more, instinctually knowing that this was right.

 He slid between her legs, positioning himself so that he could enter her. She was soaked, and she was on fire in a way that was completely foreign to him, but one he was drawn to all the same.

 He did not wait for permission, not this time, not here. She would not thank him for it anyway. Not hesitating, he slid inside her, past her barrier and paused, for just a heartbeat before retreating. Yet her hips came back to meet him upon his return.

 “Lya—,” he groaned, she was perfect, and wild, and uninhibited in a way that he could never claim to be. Her kisses upon his flesh left him chilled and burning in a way that he’d never known before her. Every sigh, every touch, every stroke awoke the creature that had long lain dormant inside his blood. He was a dragon and she was his wolf, and nothing had ever been so right until this moment.

 His hands roamed the contours of her body, finding the curve of her ass and his fingers instinctually began to knead at her flesh. He pulled her yet closer, as close as she could possibly get, while also continuing to worship her with tender kisses all over.

 Lyanna rolled her hips, pushing him deeper, while also repositioning herself so that she could sit astride him. Once she was settled she pulled him into a sitting position  and fisted her hands into his silver tresses. Their coupling was erratic, primal, instinctual. Both wanting to dominate and be dominated by one another.

 She did not plead, nor whine her needs and wants, she acted of her own mind. Increasing the tempo, and slowing it as she went. His hands found purchase beneath her ass, and when he felt her began to tremble around him, he guided their movements, lifting her so that he could thrust inside of her while she sought her pleasure.

 He could not say how long that their joining lasted, but when he found himself close to completion, Lyanna was as well. They found their release within moments of each other, and collapsed in a heap upon the altar, heavy breaths and slick skin.

 The day had been long, and their tasks arduous, and without realization they both fell into a strange slumber, Lyanna still lying atop his chest, his length still held within her hot core.

  Unknown to the two of them, overhead two stars lit up the night sky one the color of ice, the other the color of blood, and all around them, the forest sung a song as old as time itself. A song of ice and a song of fire, for the stars in the sky confirmed it's fulfillment. 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

  She was walking beside her husband down a long dark hall. There was no echo, there was no light and yet she could see the way clear enough.

 Eventually the hall they had been walking  opened into a cavernous room, though she wasn't sure that the term ‘room’ could be reasonably applied to the space she and Rhaegar were now occupying.

 Though there were no details to take note of, she had a feeling that something big was happening. She turned to face her mate. Rhaegar appeared to be as uninformed as she felt. “I don't understand, is this your dream or mine?” she asked him hesitatingly.

 His brow furrowed at her inquiry, but before he could respond a voice spoke up from all around. “Son of the Dragon, Daughter of the Wolf, long have we awaited your coming.” Lyanna had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Never had there been another person in her dreams with Rhaegar.

 “Excuse me,” Rhaegar intervened, “but where exactly are we, and whom exactly is the _we_ you speak of?”

 _Good question…_ she thought to herself smugly.

 From a distance, a light the color of moonlight began to pulse beside another form obscured by shadow. “There are many questions, and many answers, but there is only one truth.” a disembodied yet feminine voice answered back.

 All around them, figures began to appear all of whom had the same ethereal appearance, but possessing their own uniqueness as well. There was a man dressed in pearl, another in jade then came tourmaline, onyx, topaz, opal and then amethyst. In the last seat a singular black stone marked the identity of a man shrouded in darkness and cold.

 Though these faces were none she knew, their legend is not one she is unfamiliar with. “These are the empresses and emperors of the Great Empire of the Dawn.” she blurted out before thinking but only silence answered back. As they neared the two masses that sat together, it occurred to her that, together they looked a lot like what a solar eclipse would, on the rare occasion that one can be seen. Beside them, on either side sat two empty thrones and Lyanna felt a pull to sit beside the bright figure but Rhaegar held her tight, willing her to stay beside him.

 All around them the scenery began to change. The blackness she had assumed were walls, and the surface beneath her feet started to light up, until Lyanna realized that she was standing with the stars, or at least she appeared to be.

 “You stand in the halls of Gods and Kings.” a deep and timeless voice boomed. “Long have we awaited your arrivals.” This was curious, her Gods were the nameless ones, the gods of trees and earth and the memory of time. They were not celestial Gods, so why should they care one bit for her?

 “Be at peace, my child. We are not here to make you question your faith. Your Gods are nameless, as are we. Though we have been titled many times throughout the ages, there are two such names that have stuck more so than any other, can you guess?” The disembodied voice answered.

 Rhaegar swept his hand across the hall, toward the still figures who sat atop thrones of their own before he spoke. “These are your children and your children’s children, the Emperors and Empresses of the Dawn, which only means that you both, being opposing dualities must be the Maiden Made of Light and her husband, the Lion of Night. But I admit, I am confused as to what you could possibly want with my wife and I.” the sound of him calling her his wife thrilled her beyond relief, and she was determined to reward him for his frequent use of it when they were exclusively in each others company the next time.

 “Excuse me, you said that there were two such names that people take to calling you, I was wondering if you are the sun and the moon?” Lyanna spoke without thinking.

 The sound of feminine laughter could be heard all around her. “You are very observant my children. Long ago, a promise was made, a promise of balance and of peace. You and your wife are the fulfillment of that promise.” The maiden spoke and then gestured to the images of the heavens. “The truth is written in the stars, look with your own eyes, and you will know the truth for yourselves.”

 They both turned toward the open expanse beside them and watched as a myriad of images played out before their eyes.

  _The crowning of the Amethyst Empress, and with her the promise of peace and prosperity._

_Two moons, high in the sky. One moon seeks out the heat from the embrace of the sun, but soon realized that she could not withstand the fire of the Sun. Knowing that she could not return as she had before, she drank the suns flame, hoping to temper it for the only sister that remained to their lover, lest this fate be repeated. In the end, the flames proved too great and she cracked from the heat and fell toward the earth causing darkness to descend with her, for she had been the twilight  and now all that remained was Day and Night. The Sun and the Moon._

_A man, similar in feeling to the one in the hall that is shrouded in darkness seeks power and is possessed by a black stone which fell from the sky along with the moon. A bloodstone… and thus he named himself._

_The Bloodstone Emperor had been corrupted by the oily black stone and he began using dark magic after he enslaved his people, not stopping at necromancy._

_A fort is being built, nestled amongst the bogs and swamps. Solid black walls, no lines or seams._ Lyanna realized that this was Moat Cailin before it fell into ruin. _The same man stands amidst at least three score men, all haggard in appearance, no light shining through their lifeless eyes._

_High above, the only moon turned her back from the world of man, too far gone in her grief was she, at having lost her only companion, her sister. Without her to govern, the land eventually frosted over covering everything in ice, and the Sun, with no other option was sent forth to punish the wickedness of the Bloodstone Emperor and his followers._

_A man, dark of hair and grey of eye, watches as the moon crashes to the earth and decides to follow it to the point of impact which caused the earth to split and shake and the Sun took shelter for an age. He finds her broken and bleeding and he brings her under his protection._

_A thousand-thousand dragons are born from the moon, flying east and west and north and south._

_The same man searches the crater caused by the fall of the moon, and low and behold he finds the physical body of the fallen moon. Paralyzed by her beauty, he stole her and claimed her as his own and she went on to bare him many children. A Star, a Dragon and a wolf. One to guard the heavens, another to guard the realms of men, and one to unite the heavens and the earth and create balance._

_Later, he goes on to forge a weapon; a sword, the color of moonlight from the material left behind from the wreckage that was once a twin to her sister, though try as he might, nothing mundane could temper it. After his second attempt had failed him, he knew that he had to temper the blade using a material that was of equal or greater strength. So, with a heavy heart he called forth the Moon, whom he had named Nissa Nissa (Falling Star in the Old Tongue) and bid her bare her breast to him. Knowing what was required of her, she willingly sacrificed herself for the fate of humanity, and the children she was leaving behind._

_After observing the man at the forge, the Sun decides to make the man his vessel and he pours his fire forth into the blade the moment it pierces his wives heart, combining the two for all time, a sword with the soul of Fire and the heart of Ice._

_A whispered phrase. “Lightbringer, and you shall bring the dawn.”_

_The smith who had forged Lightbringer surrounded by an army of corpses, scores falling to the might of the sword._

_Three children, a wolf with eyes the color of Iron, a star and a dragon with eyes the colors of sunsets stand together as they watch the sun rise for the first time in a generation. “This will not last forever Balerion, we will need to prepare them for the time when a darkness falls once again.” The wolf said._

_“Vhagar, it is not just the vanity and the greed that brought about the darkness and it wasn't the dead who were our greatest foe. If the darkness returns so too will all the rest.” The Dragon responded._

_“Then we must all say our goodbyes, for our work must be done across the known world.” stated the star._

_The birth of the Red Star and the birth of the blue star._

_A babe is born amidst the flaming ruins of a once great palace, overhead the Sun watches on as he chooses his vessel once more._

_A woman kneels before the Heart Tree of the nameless to make an offering. The Maiden hears her call and chooses the babe in her womb as her vessel._

_“His shall be fire, hers shall be ice, and together they shall bring forth Lightbringer and save the realms of men from a darkness set to devour them all."_

 Lyanna didn't have to ask what she had just seen, she understood well enough, she turned to face the man who had brought the darkness. She meant to remember his features, eyes the color of Ice, hair as black as night. He had a look about him that seemed almost familiar, one filled with lust, greed and envy.

 “You both have been chosen, you both have been marked. Long ago, the founders of your lines were of one blood.” _Three heads has the dragon… “_ After the darkness, they all chose to part ways, each of them in turn creating families of their own. The wolf went North his Sons eventually going on to build the Wall, and many other great feats, all to prepare for the day when the darkness would return.” Lyanna nodded her head in understanding.

 “The empire was gone with the defeat of the darkness, the world had become a broken place and all the peoples and their tribes as well. Trust was broken and mankind became fearful of one another, and so lust and murder continued. For this reason the Wolf, the Star and the Dragon all parted ways. The Star remained  where their mother had fallen to build a castle atop the remains of her original form, his sons, sons would go on to prove their valor and the right to wield the Sword of the Morning. The Wolf traveled North, chasing the moon and the Dragon flew in search of the lands of fire. And now the time has come, the darkness is returning. You both have now awoken the power that has been lying dormant. Your blood is our blood, for you are as much our children as the ones who raised you. You have bled on the altar of the Gods and now you have opened the Gate of Ice.” she turned her attention toward Rhaegar. “You have shared your seed on the altar of the Gods, and thus have opened the Gate of Fire. Use these gates wisely, and stay close to one another. Your strength is in the balance you each provide, for the winter is without mercy, and fire consumes without each other to temper one another.”

 There was so much that she didn't understand, so many questions she needed to ask, but somehow she knew that she would get no clear answers from them. Rhaegar was another story all together. “To what end will this gift serve, what changes now that we know of these gates and this truth you have revealed to us?” His tone was hard, this was not the Rhaegar she fell in love with. This was a dragon, protecting his mate, one who was suspicious of outsiders, no matter whom they claimed to be.

 The last words spoken between the four of them came from the shadow, the Lion of Night. “Your destiny is yours alone my children, but you were both chosen to be our vessels upon the earth. Ergo, your strength is in Fire, while hers is in Ice. Your destiny in all of this is to create the balance, and through that balance your future generations will return the people to a time of peace and prosperity. The promise is thus; everlasting unity…”

 When she awoke, she was still astride Rhaegar, a tangle of limbs and sweat. Hardly any time had passed at all from the look of things. Her eyes sought his, only to find indigo staring back at her grey. “Do you remember?”

 He simply nodded, and then pulled her near, holding her tightly within the circle of his embrace and kissing her tenderly. His touch did exactly what she had needed, putting her at ease almost immediately. “Would you like to lay here a bit longer, or would you like to move to the tent I had prepared for us?” he enquired.

 Truth be told, both options sounded perfect, as long as there was more time between the two of them. However, now that she had the time to process everything, she also had an impulse to investigate these gates of Ice and Fire. Ever a creature of impulsiveness, she decided it was best to confess what she truly desired.

 “I’d like to explore, tell me you don't feel a pull and I’ll not say another word, but something is pulling me toward the Northern part of the Isle and I can only assume you are feeling the same sensation pulling you south. Do you deny it?” she challenged.

 “Nay, I do indeed feel the compulsion to go toward the southern side of the Isle. But this night feels sacred Lya, and we know nothing about these gates. Mayhap it is better to wait upon our guide before we began to meddle in things blindly.” he reasoned.

 Rising from her position atop him, she sighed deeply, knowing him to have the right of it. His eyes followed her naked figure. She turned her back to him, and returned her maidens cloak and wrapped it about herself, before turning back to face her visibly aroused mate.

 “Take me to bed, Your Grace, I do believe I’d like to ride a dragon once more.” She teased, and to her delight he did not hesitate, sweeping her up and carrying her, and his discarded clothing back to the tent that awaited them.

 She was a thousand leagues from home, yet she never felt more content than when his hands and lips were upon her flesh and their bodies are joined as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I just wanted to thank those of you who have been following my story since the beginning.  
> Our fandom is full of some of the most passionate people I’ve had the privilege to get to know, and recently that experience has flooded over into fanfiction for me.  
> With that being said, I’m 100% committed to finishing this work. But it is hard to persevere through negative feedback.  
> Not that I’ve had much, but it has an effect all the same.  
> I realize that as a fan, I can only stay true to my own thoughts and inspirations, and even though I hope to do the story justice, my POV is just one of millions.  
> However, I’m not of the opinion that I am writing canon based material. In fact, I’m about as far away from canon as I can be without renaming all of my characters and Re-crafting the world all together. There are no soul marks in George’s Westeros. And we don’t actually know what Elia would or would not have done.  
> We don’t know if the two moons are based on truth or fabrication. We don’t know much about anything pre-rebellion. And because of that, I ask those of you who swear they know the material, to keep in mind that this is in fact, a Fan-fiction, not a canon-fiction.  
> I welcome all feedback, but please, if you are not happy with something I’ve written then state your issue with respect. Do not attack my person. You can catch flies more easily with honey than vinegar. And I’m less likely to ignore you if you criticize my work constructively.  
> I would prefer not to have to turn on comment monitoring but I will if those of you who have nothing better to do than troll continue to leave obscene comments on my work. 
> 
> Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, WOW to season 8. I know many people who are still reeling from the final season, indeed it was a bitter pill to swallow. But I would remind all of you that none of us were ever promised a happy ending.  
> I’m of the firm belief that things will of course work out differently in the books, but I don’t see Dany not burning Kings Landing... though in my opinion I believe it will be a mercy that drives her to do so.  
> Be that as it may, I will find a way to do her character justice, while also staying true to her, Jon and Arya.  
> The artists worked hard, and they deserve our respect. I only wish that Dave and Dan would have committed to the story that they fought so hard to be able to create.  
> I’ll forever be grateful to them for bringing the world of Ice and Fire to life, and to some of the most perfect casting I’ve ever seen. (Give or take a few mistakes).  
> There has been a lot of talks about fix-its and I’ve even seen a few attempts so far.  
> Eventually I may give it a go myself. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know your thoughts about the chapter in the comments. Your words inspire and fuel me onward. If anyone has any thoughts, or ideas for my future chapters, I’d love to hear those as well. 
> 
> Also, what do you think of the chapter lengths? I personally prefer longer chapters, I hate clicking to turn the page, but the process does get a bit longer due to that.  
> Do you guys prefer multiple POV’s in a chapter, or would you like shorter chapters and singular PoV’s moving forward?


	21. A Winter Wolf in a Summer Court

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will pick up the day following their wedding and then there will be a time jump of a little over a fortnight wherein Lyanna and Rhaegar do some exploring, and then make their way to King's Landing where Lyanna will have a chance to do some exploring, as well as meet the Queen for the first time. And of course, there will be some more interaction between Lyanna and Aerys as well.

**_The Three-eyed Raven_ **

* * *

 A single red eye opens somewhere far to the North. The Three-eyed Raven takes in his surroundings; beside him, perched on the branches that made his throne were his Ravens. The collective consciousness of past singers and seers alike. His only companions save the Singers and the Sleepers who inhabit his hollow hill.

 He had spent many and more days beneath the _sea,_ and based on all he’d seen, things were progressing far better than he could have anticipated, and his chosen was playing his part much better than he had hoped.

 There was still much to be done but he had already begun their preparations. If they were to survive the coming darkness, he could not wait to send them their familiars. The Starks would require their packs, and their young will require their own familiars as well.

 This would be an age for the beasts and Old Magic, mankind has done enough damage, even without magic to aid them.

  _No more… the time of the GateKeepers is upon us. Their line will ensure that we live to see a never ending spring…_

The migration had already begun, the Great packs have already passed through the caves and soon the shadowcats, the snow bears, and all the other beasts of prey will begin their march as well. Though it will be many a year before the migration is complete, the journey was well underway.

 He thought about the dragons and how once they flew over Westeros inspiring fear and wonder in the hearts of men, women and children. They would return, of this he knew, he just needed to get the Silver boy on track first.

 He would need to send word to Aemon, not just about the she-dragon, but about the eggs as well. The children would need them, and they would need them soon. If proper bonds were to be forged, if they were to control them properly, then they would need to begin in the cradle. The way it had been until that final hatchling from the Dance.

 He was thankful for the hallowed earth in which the enemy holds no dominion. For the wyrmways that had been carved into the earth long before the arrival of the First Men.

 Long before they wandered across the land bridge once known as the Arm of Dorne, and claimed Westeros as their home. The tunnels traveled beneath the earth, as far north as the Lands of Always Winter and as far south as Dragonstone, south-west to the Rainwood, and from there, north-west to the Westerlands, and it is within these hallowed tunnels, forged with fire and magic the She-dragon slumbers, waiting on the Silver boy to call upon her.

 Yes, it was definitely time to move on to his next stage, and soon he would have the chance to relay his intent to the crannogman.

 The Three-Eyed Raven leaned back upon his throne and closed his good eye. Concentrating his intentions, he pushed his consciousness southward in search of an island surrounded by water. Toward the isle of the God’s, where his agent was busy at his task.

 The bond of Dragon and Wolf was secured, But he had yet to proclaim her as Winters Queen the last time he had checked in. And even though it was hardly necessary to the bond, Winter needed a Queen—, the Dragon must wed an equal, not his subject.

 The Stag, It would seem is still fuming, and even though there is little to be done in this regard, the Three-Eyed Raven could not help but hope for the man to be struck down through some Divine intervention.

  _Perhaps this type of obsession is what fueled Aegor’s interest in Shiera…_

 _Shiera…_ God’s it had been an age since last they spoke. Even though he was now bound to the tree. He hoped that she did not resent him his last request.

 He had promised her that one day they would reunite, he had convinced her that he could not fulfill their joined destinies if she refused to aid him. He could check on her now, but she avoided the Godswood, and detested the presence of his ravens and the crow cousins he sometimes used in their place.

 But she never abandoned her post, even if she had taken other lovers, and birthed many children not of his seed…

 He had the chance to go with her once, but love was the death of duty, and everything he had done thus far, including his banishment beyond the Wall, was all done in the name of _Duty…_

 He watched in silence as the agent went about his tasks, his eyes widened as he watched the Winter Winds wrap themselves around the king. This was no doubt an undisclosed effect of the mark, but even without his interjection he watched as his agent deftly navigated his way through the greater mysteries that are Ice and Fire.

 He had been neither, a firebird at most. Neither dragon nor raven, he was the tree outside the halls of his mother. _Bone and blood and memory and sight…_ but he was as nameless as the Gods of the First Men, and cursed to suffer alone. He had been given by the God’s to the house of his father, to watch and observe, to serve, and to protect, but to never expect gratitude or thanks.

 It mattered naught to him, whether they loved him or not, for gratitude, he found, was a fickle thing. Those thanking you today will just as soon curse you tomorrow if it served their purposes well enough.

 His silver prince was taking his bride to Dragonstone… this is perfect, for this  had not been a part of the previous timeline. His thoughts traveled toward the room… yes the room would need to be discovered, as well as the other door that was a link to the Fire-Gate.

 The _iron-She-Wolf_ will need to collect the seeds and she will need the crannogman’s aid in planting them. While it is she that holds the blood of Winter, his will be the song that will sing them from seed to root and then sprout.

 The Silver boy will need to locate the woods-witch once more as well, for she can teach him the words for the song…

 There was still much work to be done, even in the North. The Kingdom of the Direwolf will have to learn how to adapt as the world continues to change from without. If they stay frozen in place for the next eight-thousand years they won’t survive. They need to invest in the living, for tomorrow. Rather than living for the day they are currently in, they need to start looking ahead. They cannot keep sacrificing their elderly for the young, their men for their women and babes. No, all lives are precious… especially in winter.

 He was still  wary of interfering with things on his own. Even if the ends justify the means, Aerys was all the proof he needed of good intentions going wrong, as well as the boy in Winterfell.

 He felt the whisper of his agent and the trees response, and then he is watching as the Iron She-Wolf wove her favor into the hair of her mate. _Another union of ice and fire…_ she was a clever one, this girl… they both were. Not for the first time, they had found another way to complete the requirements, but they would need more than just quick wits if we are to survive all of this.

 They would need the help of the Freehold, or at the very least what remained of the Targaryen holdings. Would that he had the chance to go himself but his time had not been the time of Dragons. Had he been born prior to Princess Aerea/Rhaella’s flight back to Valyria, may happen her journey could have ended differently. But the dragons must return, through the gates, or through the lands that are the blooded property of their house. So says the incantation Daenys used on their estate prior to the Doom.

 He focused, visualizing the chamber of the Dragon, long since forgotten on Dragonstone. When he focused, he could see tall pillars lining along hall, behind him a set of stairs ascended upward. In the distance, he could faintly hear the crash of the waves assaulting the cliffs below.

 The chamber itself was much like the rest of Dragonstone, built in the classic Valyrian fashion. Seamless black stone walls, twisted and shaped with magic known only to the Firemages of Old Valyria. Sphinx’s and dragons and Wyverns seemingly springing forth from the stone. The archways adorned by what appeared to be the open maw of a Dragon.

 The chamber itself was three sided with a series of volcanoes etched into the surrounding surfaces. Fourteen to be exact… on the far side of the chamber stood an arch that was done in white and black, which the Three-Eyed Raven knew to be Ebony and Weirwood, with Valyrian glyphs etched into its frame.

 He sighed, feeling contentment at the sight of the portal. The room held many secrets to be sure, but the gate was a treasure beyond priceless and soon it would be brought to light.

 When he opened his eye, Leaf stood before him, parchment in hand. “Send word to Aemon, tell him that it is time to prepare the Silver Prince for the future. Tell him that the eggs must be presented to the babes. Tell him _Silverwing_ and he will understand what it means.

 Leaf nodded and made haste to carry out her duties. There was much to do, but much more to see. So he closed his eye once more and allowed the waves of the ever changing sea to carry him away once again...

* * *

  _ **The Silver Prince**_

* * *

Time sped by without pause. The morning following their union, he awoke to the image of his wife.

  _His wife…_ the realization was sweeter than any he had ever experienced in all his years upon the earth.

 She was currently wrapped around his prone form, one hand resting above his heart, her legs twined between his and her hair was fanned out around her in a dark halo of curls. Her pale flesh a contrast to her full red lips and dark lashes. She looked absolutely ethereal the way she was lying there, as if the world were a perfect place.

 It was early he knew, and knowing that the day would be a full one, he leaned in and kissed Lyanna tenderly on her forehead. “My Love,” he prodded.

 “Mmmm?” she responded, a slight smile forming on her face, which of course he returned in spite of himself.

 “You must wake, if you intend to search for the gates. We must do so now, before we make for the shore.” Her eyes fluttered open at the mention of the gate, as if she had forgotten about them. However the words that came from her mouth completely disarmed him.

 “I saw them, our legacy… Rhaegar,” her hand traveled downward toward her flat middle. “A boy and a girl.”

  _Twins?_  He had been aware that there would be three, two of silver like him, and one dark like her, but twins? Could it be true? And so soon… Perhaps it was a premonition, not anything concrete… but still he couldn't help the hope that sprung up in his chest at her words. “Do you think it's true?” he asked, trying to contain the joy he felt in that moment. He hadn’t even asked her how she felt about it, it would not do to start celebrating before he had her thoughts on the matter.

 “Only the Gods know, Rhaegar. But after all that we have seen, who can say? You said yourself that you have seen their faces where I have not, not until now.” She had a strange distant look to her eyes as she spoke, and Rhaegar could imagine that this is how he must look every time he was hit with a premonition of his own.

 “Would you like to tell me about them, compare notes?” he asked her, a bit of humor lacing his tone.

 She shook her head, “Nay, I want to keep them to myself for a while if that is okay with you. I'm not ready to share them, I don't want to get attached to them in case it was just a dream.” The tone of her voice was laced with a bit of melancholy and for a moment he almost regretted waking her. He wished that he had been allowed to witness it with her, but he decided to remain hopeful that her dream was a sign.

 Their union had a purpose, and it was more than a mere consummation, everything had been done with the utmost care for details, and the Gods had welcomed them into their Halls. He reached for her then and ran the back of his knuckles lovingly across her cheek. “Lyanna?” She looked up meeting his gaze, Valyrian steel to Indigo. “I love you.” he murmured softly so that only she could hear.

 He had yet to say it thus, but the moment the words escaped his lips he knew them to be true. He had loved her almost immediately, without hesitation or resignation. She was good in every possible way, wanting to do good for and by her people, she was strong, her will was like iron, like the line of Winter King’s she hailed from. She was as wild as a winter storm, and as surprising as a summer snow south of the Neck, yet it was the winter in her veins that made his inner dragon roar. Never had he felt so complete than when he was able to embrace the fire burning within his veins. It felt as if he were finally coming alive, like it was finally safe to wake the dragon, and that was when he knew for certain that she would be his beginning and his end, for if there were no winter, the world would burn just as assuredly as his fire would consume him.

 She curled herself closer to him, and held him tightly. “As I love you…, as there is the Sun and the Moon, a day and a night, my love for you will stand the test of time.” she vowed to him alone. She was his… they stayed that way for just a bit longer before rising to ready themselves.

 Once they made their way from the tent, they could see that the sky was just beginning to lighten, though the colors were a mix of crimson, violet, and a blue that were more likely to be present at sunset rather than sunrise.

 Hand in hand they made their way toward  a clearing that would allow them a better view of the morning sky, all around the woods were humming with some unknown ancient magic that was more than simply the magic of the Nameless ones.

 “What do you think is the cause?” Lyanna asked, unable to master her ever curious nature for long.

 He chuckled, “Patience love, we shall see soon enough,” he pulled her near and captured her lips with his own. “Are you ready?” he murmured against her mouth.

 “Mmm,”  she hummed, nodding her head to affirm her intent.

 Taking hold of her arms, he turned her so that her back was flush to his chest and together they took their first look at the morning sky as a married and bonded pair. He had expected pastels, gradient blends upon the horizon, but above him were two very distinctive yet two completely different comets soaring through the heavens. One was the color of blood, the other was the color of Ice. His eyes went wide as he turned his attention back to his wife who simply looked on in shock at the wonder that they had created through their union.

 “That’s us—,” he confessed without thinking. “They say that the red comet comes to herald a king, that it is meant to slay the season, it speaks of dragons and warns of Fire and Blood to come. But I know nothing of the other one…”

 She squeezed his hand once, “Well, we are the fulfillment of a promise, of fire and ice. If the red comet slays the season, that would imply that winter holds no dominion, yet there we are.” her gaze drifted upward and then back between the two of them. “And here we are. I think it's a promise of balance between the two. As I have told you before, winter is still upon us. I can smell it in the air, and taste it on my tongue.” her hands went to her stomach once more. “These babes will be born between both winter and summer—, they will mark spring.” Her words left no room for doubt. It was a statement of fact, and so he simply nodded.

 They were brought away from their private moment by the sound of approaching footsteps, when they turned around to see who was coming they found both Root and Brook standing close by, patiently waiting for their attention.

 “Hello, we didn't realize that you would be awake, I hope that we didn't disturb anything. We only wished—,” Lyanna began but Root finished her thought before she had the opportunity.

 “To view the Gate of Ice and the Gate of Fire, we came to be your escorts and your guides in this one instance, at least whilst you reside with us on the isle, Your Graces.” They spoke with absolute reverence toward the two of them, which he hadn’t expected at all.

 “Please, it would be an honor to have you both guide us through the details and have you teach us what we need to know about the gates.” he replied.

 Pleased by his words they both nodded and motioned for he and Lyanna to follow as they made their way back toward the World Tree and the altar. Rather than head toward the altar as they had the previous night, they were brought around to the opposite side where the earth had been pushed aside and a huge opening appeared that lead them under the tree, and deep within the earth.

 He couldn't tell how far they descended into the earth, but eventually the room opened up and there was a large loom in the center. All round there were threads, millions upon millions of different colors. Colors that even he could not name for he had never before seen them himself. The earthen walls around the room had different tunnels that lead to what Rhaegar could only assume were the other parts of the isle. Two such tunnels stood out from the rest however both wreathed in what appeared to be weirwood, however the archway to the right bore what appeared to be Valyrian glyphs and the other, the one on the left bore the runes of the First Men, and then he understood.

 He had not expected an explanation, but nonetheless one was offered. Though it came from Howland Reed who had appeared after they arrived. “Fair morning, Your Graces,” he greeted as he approached.

 “Fair morning,” they both returned in unison.

 “I suppose you are curious about all of this.” he said, sweeping his hand across the room.

 They both nodded their affirmation, which Howland returned before speaking once more. “This is the loom, which is used to weave the tapestry of time. Each individual thread belongs to a single living life. Some threads are wound another, these threads represent a bonded pair, just as the two of you are.”

 This caught Rhaegar off guard. To his knowledge the only other bonded pair aside from himself and Lyanna was Ned and Ash. Howland must have understood the confused look on his face because he beckoned them closer.

 “The loom holds the threads of the living, true. But the tapestry holds the story of all time, as such there are residual strands left behind representing the product of such unions which will eventually pass through the loom as well.” he gestured toward a joined thread. “This thread belongs to the two of you, before I left the isle for the tourney, your threads were still separate, but now…” he pointed to the alternating colors, indigo and silver-grey, “You cannot tell where His Grace begins, and Her Grace ends.” His tone was casual as he explained, but Rhaegar didn't miss the blush that traveled up Lyanna’s cheeks as Howland referred to her as royalty.

 His eyes followed their thread, looking to see how far it went, but quickly realized that there was only the now. However, now that he had finally seen the thread for himself, he could see that the thread was bound around not just the loom, but also around himself and Lyanna too, and where their hands were clasped together the tread pulsed brightly.

 “There will be time moving forward for both of you to  view the tapestry, but I do believe you both were hoping to view the gates.” Howland said as he started walking toward the Southern Gate entrance. They were met by Brook who had been waiting patiently for Howland to finish speaking. The Greenmen did not speak often, and even then only when absolutely necessary. He suspected that they were able to communicate telepathically with each other, because even when they were both together Root seldomly used spoken words to communicate with Brook, yet she seemed to understand his intentions easily enough.

 The tunnel they walked was long and dark though there was a natural luminescence to be seen all around them. Oddly the path looked like it went on forever when he had entered but as they neared the end, he could swear that they had only been walking a few minutes.

 Before him stood an archway like nothing he had ever seen, it was made up of weirwood and a dark wood that he had a bluish tint. Etched into the wood were Valyrian glyphs that he knew as well as his own name. Fire and Blood. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he stepped toward the gate and placed his hands on either side of the arch, one touching the white bark of the weirwood and the other touching the dark wood and he closed his eyes listening to the magic that was humming in his head, the instinctual knowledge that had been laying dormant his entire life. He felt the heat rise from his core and he pushed it outward toward the gate. At first he felt no change, so he tried again and then waited. After a moment he felt a click and he removed his hand and stepped back, opening his eyes as he retreated to the comfort of Lyanna’s side.

 The arch was alive in a way that he had only seen in a dream, a gate of Fire indeed, where there had once been a dark and light wooden arch now was a perpetual bonfire. He turned to look at Root, “Is this safe?”

 “It is as it should be, the gate is active and can now be used. The first ingredient was fire, the second will be blood. When you desire to use the gate you will need to pay the blood price, as only your blood can activate the portal.” Beside the gate was an impression where his hand would fit perfectly a place for him to feed his blood to the flame. “There are two locations that this gate will lead you, both of which are tied to the blood of your blood. One is Dragonstone, the other Old Valyria. Choose your destination carefully when using this gate.” Root warned.

 He had more questions now than he had answers, but he would not travel through the gate right now, not knowing where the other gate on Dragonstone was located, and not wanting to end up in Valyria some place in the Smoking Sea. He turned his attention toward Lyanna, “Shall we go to see this one's twin?” he asked her, knowing he was about to explode if she wasn't able to see it soon.

 “Gods I was worried you would never ask!” she confessed, impatient as ever. He could only chuckle at his beautiful wild and ever curious mate.

 “If you would be so kind?” he hinted to Root, who inclined his head and lead them back the way they had come.

  The Gate of Ice was made primarily of Weirwood, though the runes were wrought in bronze. He didn't have to be a genius to know what they said, ‘Winter is Coming.’ Lyanna knew just as he did what was required of her. Though there was a scepter that was protruding from the ground that looked as if it had been carved from glass. Lyanna took it in both her hands and closed her eyes. Unlike with him, the gate knew the moment she touched the scepter what to do, and he suspected it was because Lyanna was so closely attuned to her gods, and as such had been using her power without her knowledge, where as he had always sought to suppress his fire lest he end up like his father.

 Slowly the ice crept away from the scepter and toward the Gate, traveling up the bark until it completely encased the gate and the portal within lit up. Lyanna was back at his side in an instant, staring at the gate in wonder.

 “This gate will take you to Winterfell, the home of the Winter Kings, and beyond the Wall to the cave of the Last Greenseer. If there are any other locations, they are not known to us, though I would advise you not to travel to a place that is unfamiliar to you.” Root counseled.

 Lyanna turned to him then, “Can we go to Winterfell? I know that my father would keep this a secret, and we could be back just as quickly?” she almost begged.

 He wanted to say yes, but something told him that they should wait. “I would love to meet your Lord Father right now, but we have no idea where the other gate is, and we don't know how long they stay active, would it not be better to do this when there is no one waiting on either of us?” This needed to be a decision that she made, not one that he denied her, else this conversation would take them nowhere. Luckily the Gods seemed to take pity on him, because Lyanna agreed to wait, at least until they arrived on Dragonstone and located the other half of the fire gate.

 The rest of their time was spent packing up their belongings, and talking with the greenmen about the tapestry and the seeds. By the time they set off from the isle, the sun was less than half way over the eastern horizon, what had felt like hours took no time at all in reality.

* * *

  _ **The She-Wolf**_

* * *

The ride from Harrenhal to King's Landing passed by more quickly than she had thought. Though they did not rush their journey, Lyanna suspected that Howland had used his crannog-magic to aid them in their travels.

 They ended up leaving late on the evening of the final day, mostly due to seeing off the last few lords who had yet to depart, and of course she had wanted to scout the isle and learn all that she could about the gates and the seeds before they left for however long, only the Gods knew…

 Of the former, she was still trying to wrap her mind around, the latter, ironically didn’t have need of requirements. The green-men said that she would know when and where she should place the pods, and Howland of course offered to teach her the song to sing them into rooting.

 Lyanna was able to avoid seeing Robert off, thank the Gods for their small mercies. Even though he had appeared to respect the King’s decree, she knew he was simply hiding his time before he made another move—. These were the times of course that she despised being born female more than any other. Had she been born with a cock between her legs, no one would have cared if she wanted to be the one to reject a potential suitor, but because she had been born with a cunt and tits, no one would allow her the chance to make her thoughts and feelings known to the man—, ugh! She hated depending on those with cocks to relay her sentiments. She was perfectly capable of speaking her mind, truthfully and seriously.

 Her days on the road had been spent doing any number of tasks. In the morning she would attempt to train with Arthur and Oswell, but Rhaegar had made a chore out of that due to her admission the morning following their wedding, and as a result, he would train with her for the most part. Which she supposed she couldn’t complain about, but she could tell that he was holding back, afraid of causing any undue injury to her person on the off chance that his seed had quickened. Arthur pointed out better ways for her to handle her blade, and even promised to have a blade made for her hand when they reached Dragonstone.

 Ashara and Ned were constantly running off whenever there was a free moment, and Lyanna knew exactly what her good-sister had been up to with her shy brother. Perhaps the most shocking thing about it all was that after the second day, Ned stopped coming back red faced with his head hung in embarrassment. Ashara was good for her brother, anyone with eyes could see how much he had changed since he met her, all changes that were in truth for the better.

 Whenever the men would disappear to talk their plans and plots, Lyanna and Elia and Ashara would spend their time gossiping about their days, Elia spent a good time in the wheelhouse due to her pregnancy, and the fact that she was never much of a rider, so Ashara had agreed to ride along and keep her company. But Lyanna just could not, and she spent every stop apologizing profusely for not being more sensitive toward her situation, especially knowing that once they were close enough, she would be expected to abandon Winter and ride in the wheeled cage too. But Elia was as kind and as understanding as ever, promising her that she did not mind the quiet time, nor the extra space to stretch herself out. Howland even rode with her from time to time, and the two of them became fast friends once they figured out how similar their two cultures actually were.

  Another surprise was seeing the difference between the Arthur Dayne that was the Kingsguard and Arthur Dayne who was a loving husband and father. His manner when with her was unlike anything she could imagine, for a knight as deadly as the Sword of the Morning, he treated his wife with care and delicacy, but not in a way that would wound her dignity. He adored her, everything about her, from her Dornish temper that once roused was a thing to behold, he loved how clever and devious she was, and he loved that she was not afraid to need him openly.

 Lyanna found that she envied that trait of her friend the most. She was not sure if she could ever allow herself to be the damsel that most men dream of falling for, she did not know how to need someone, to be vulnerable for the benefit of another… but every time she saw the two of them together she realized that there was also strength to be had in vulnerability, they found strength in each other. It was then that she realized that she had always been afraid. She was afraid of being honest with her father and her brothers, she was afraid that if she were to show weakness, they would treat her differently. She was afraid that if she wasn't strong enough for everyone else, then everything would come tumbling down around them, the way it had when her mother had departed. It was then that she knew that she was only half living, because if all she had ever been was brave, she had closed herself off to everything else that life would have her experience.

 She had wanted to be Visenya as a girl, only to now realize that Rhaenys was just as strong as her sister. Not because she rode a dragon of her own, because she was proof that her kin were also human as the people they intended to rule. She was both a woman and a warrior, alluring and lethal. If she were being honest with herself, she still preferred the Warrior over the Woman, but she had a new found respect for Queen Rhaenys.

 The first seed that she planted was at the Inn at the Crossroads. At first she didn't understand what was happening but her confusion quickly became understanding when Howland came to stand beside her. She had been pacing back and forth, restless for some reason she could not name. She felt like she should be looking for something, and that was when he told her that she was feeling the urge to plant a seed, the spot had been chosen because of how often travelers pass through the area. The trees are meant to provide a measure of protection in the true winter, and because of this the magic had marked the earth in this location.

 The song was more of a tune than anything else, but there was an intent behind the melody that encouraged the seed to grow, it was not until she picked the tune up on her own though that she saw her magic work for the first time. Her hands were working the earth and she willed her intent through the song and then her hands began to glow in a way she had never seen before but she knew that this was supposed to be. She hadn’t  noticed Rhaegar beside her when she started, but when she was done he was there watching her with something akin to amazement sparkling in his eyes. She smiled at him, and it occurred to her that she needed to give this tree an offering, so she pulled her blade from her boot and made the cut across her palm that she always made, and offered her blade to Rhaegar thinking that he may want to help. He didn't disappoint when he also cut into the already healing scar from the night of their wedding, and together they made their first offering to this new weirwood. The first of many they would give back to Westeros. After that, Rhaegar helped her every time a new seed was planted, and eventually he joined his voice in with hers to sing the seed into growing. And somehow, in the deepest part of her soul she felt more and more grounded south of the Neck with every seed that was planted.

* * *

  _ **The Silver Prince**_

* * *

 

 The ride through the city didn’t take much time, as they had arrived just after sundown and most people were already inside their homes for the night. Therefore there weren’t many residents lining the streets leading the way up Aegon’s High Hill.

 Outside the Red Keep, a small contingent of men waited to greet him and his party, including Prince Lewyn and Jon Connington, who was surprised to see that Lyanna had agreed to ride in the wheelhouse with Elia and Ashara into the city.

 Having departed Harrenhal with the king, he hadn’t been present the night they had been wed, but he knew enough of Lyanna to know that this was out of  character for her.

 “The king will see you and your party in the throne room, Your Grace.” Connington said with a bow.

 Rhaegar wasn’t surprised by this, although he had hoped to put this off until the morrow, alas some things just can’t be helped. He sighed, “Very well, let’s get this over with.” He looked over to Lyanna and gave her a shy smile that begged her for her forgiveness before he offered his arm to Elia.

 Even though she would not complain about having to pretend that they were nothing more than a Prince and a Lady in Waiting, he hated not being able to claim her before the eyes of the court, and the realm as a whole.

 “Jon I have a favor I would ask of you.” He hesitated.

 “Anything, Your Grace,” his tone was eager, as always, whenever Rhaegar asked a favor of him specifically.

 “I’d like for you to arrange rooms for your Princess Lyanna that have two enterances, if you know what I’m saying. She will not want to sleep alone, and I do not wish to be parted from her, nor do I wish to start rumors during our short stay.” He said quietly so that only Jon could hear.

 “At once.” Jon took on the demeanor of a soldier reporting for duty, before leading their party through the Red Keep toward the Throne Room.

 The hall was empty save for a few courtesans that had gathered to see the Prince and his party arrive. His father was seated atop the Iron Throne, flanked by Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Gerold Hightower of the Kingsguard, but his mother was noticeably absent, as was Viserys.

 Once they were near enough to the throne, Rhaegar bent the knee to his father, hoping that this display of subservience would please the king. Elia followed him with a deep curtsey and behind them followed Ashara, Lyanna and her brother Ned.

 “You returned much sooner than I had thought. I see you’ve brought the wolves with you to court.” The king looked pleased enough by this development. Although it wasn’t exactly as if they’d had a choice in the matter.

 “The road was clear on our way, and there was no reason to delay our return after the final day. The Starks made for great travel companions and of course the Princess was eager to be reunited with our daughter.” He added quickly.

 The king's gaze lingered on Lyanna for a moment before sweeping over the rest of the party. “I assume you plan to depart for Dragonstone in the coming days?” The King enquired.

 Rhaegar couldn't decide whether Lyanna’s presence was having an effect on him or not, but he seemed a touch more civil than normal. Regardless, Rhaegar couldn't help but to keep his senses on high alert and his guard up at all times. Any variation in behavior could be enough to alert the wrong people to the King's new condition.

Rhaegar nodded his confirmation. “As soon as the ship can be made ready. I have already sent someone to make preparations.”

 “Hmm, I see.” The king's thoughts trailed off for a moment. “Very well, I suspect you all would like to rest after your journey, your chambers will be prepared. Rhaegar, you will join me tonight for last meal with your mother and Viserys. You are dismissed.” The king waved his claw like hand in a shooing motion before anyone could say another word.

 Bowing to the king before departing, Rhaegar lead Elia and the rest of their party from the throne room and off toward the Maiden Vault where rooms had been prepared. After seeing Lyanna into the rooms that had been selected specifically for her with care, he promised that he would see her soon and he placed a tender kiss upon her brow before departing in search of his mother.

 He found the Queen in her chambers, sitting by the large windows that looked out onto the Blackwater. Viserys could be heard playing in the other room beside Rhaenys who could also be heard giggling delightfully at something Viserys said or did.

 “Mother?” He called, trying to announce his presence as not to startle her. When she turned and her lilac eyes met his, her face lit up like she had seen the sun for the very first time.

 “My son, you’ve returned to me.” She rushed from her seat and pulled him into a tight embrace.

 “Always mother, I could never stay away for too long.” He pulled away from her embrace to have a look at her. “Are you well? I didn’t see you when we arrived, and I worried…”

 “Hush, my boy. All is well, you know how your father is, he doesn’t like us out when new people are around. It’s fine, I knew you would come to me as soon as you were able to. Tel me, how was the tournament? I heard about the Queen of Love and Beauty incident, and your father's meddling in the Stark girls betrothal.” She prattled on but Rhaegar couldn't help but smile at the mention of his Northern she-wolf. His mother did not miss a beat.

 “You found her…” she snatched his left hand from her shoulder and pulled back his sleeve to look at his mark and she gasped aloud when she saw the one completed bond. She said nothing for a time, letting it all sink in and Rhaegar gave her all the time she needed. Finally she pulled him over to a small set of chairs, far away from the wall that she knew lead to the secret passages. Far away from where unwanted ears could listen. “Is she here?”

 Rhaegar nodded.

 “Is She the Stark girl?” Rhaegar motioned back toward his mark and quirked a brow that said “ _what do you think?”_

 She chuckled. “Fair enough. I suppose that was a silly question. Is it official? I don’t mean the bond, I mean the union.”

 He understood the question just fine. “Yes, by the Seven and the Old ones.”

 Her smile was genuine. “Oh my sweet boy, I could not be more happy for you. And look at you! You are absolutely glowing, I’ve never seen you thus!” She crooned, In only the way a mother could.

 “When can I meet her?” His mother asked.

 “Soon, but not tonight. There’s much that I need to tell you about her, and father has commanded that I join You, Viserys and him for last meal, so there isn’t much time.” His mother nodded, accepting his promise.

 “How was Rhaenys? I’ve missed her terribly.” His gaze was drawn back to the double doors that he could hear the two children playing behind.

 “Oh, she is a treasure, my darling son. Even though she is the image of her mother, I dare say that little girl has the spirit of a dragon. And Viserys gets along with her better than I could have hoped. I hope you do not mind, but he gifted her a kitten.” His mother was beaming.

 “A kitten? “ he repeated dumbly, before swallowing the sudden panic of having a cat roaming the castle, having never been a fan of them personally.

 “A kitten.” His mother confirmed, clearly enjoying herself. “Can you guess what they named it?” Still struggling to contain her mirth. Though he wasn’t sure what was so funny, the name or the look of shock that he was sure was still plastered on his face at the thought of bringing the thing home.

 “You say Viserys gave her the kitten?” Already seeing where this path would lead. His mother nodded again. “Well, that clears things up quite a bit. There is only one name for any beast Viserys bestows his attention upon, and with any luck, he’d managed to convince Rhaenys to go along with his feelings on the matter.

“I suspect I will be sailing home with the second coming of the Black Dread?”

 His mother smiled, confirming his suspicions. “Just be thankful he did not find a real dragon, I dare say between the two of them your father would have returned to find the Red Keep reduced to a pile of rubble.” She teased, but all Rhaegar could do was wonder what other types of mischief she had allowed the two of them to get into while the King was gone.

 He kissed his mother on her brow before excusing himself toward the children. “I’m sorry to break away so soon, but there is a Dornish princess pacing in her chambers right now who desperately wants to see her most beloved  daughter.”

 “Of course, I can only sympathize with her. Being away from your children, no matter the length of time is never a pleasant experience.” She stood and lead the way to the children.

 When the doors were finally drawn open, he found Rhaenys and Viserys jumping on the bed, slinging pillows at one another. Though Viserys was always careful to not hit her too hard.  Rhaenys was clearly enjoying the company of her uncle. There had been hardly a moment between the time it had taken them to open the door and the moment two sets of small eyes found his.

 “Papa!”

 “Rhaegar!”

 “You're back!”

 He had hardly a chance to acknowledge the first before another chorus of delightful cheers rushed him anew. He had missed them both and he had hardly a moment for Viserys lately, so it gladdened his heart seeing the bond he had already formed with his niece. Gods knew how little human interaction their royal father allowed his brother. If only he could take them both to Dragonstone for a few weeks…

 He crouched down and swept them both up into his arms. “Hello little dragons, how fare thee?” Both Rhaenys and Viserys seemed pleased by his remark and didn't bother trying to contain their glee.

 “Mother let us see the dragon skulls, and Rhaenys and I played Hide and seek. I even gave Rhae a kitty Rhaegar!” Viserys joy was infectious. Rhaenys, still not as confident in her vocabulary, mostly just nodded and giggled, corroborating Viserys story.

 “I see, I hope you don't mind, little brother, but I came to take the Princess to see her mother. However, if you would allow it, Father has requested that I dine with all of you this evening, and you can tell me all about your adventures with Rhae, how does that sound?” He didn't want to leave him so soon, but he knew that Vis would welcome any additional opportunity to spend with him so he had thrown in the part about Last Meal to sweeten the blow. Even though he seemed to be content in the moment, Rhaegar knew how lonely Vis truly was and took it especially hard whenever he was only around for short periods of time.

 Luckily Viserys accepted his compromise to see him at dinner and he was able to make his way from the Queens chambers without much fuss. The reunion between Elia and Rhaenys was exactly as suspected, the moment she had seen her mother, Rhaegar had been completely forgotten. So he sat there at the window for a bit, watching them catch up with one another. Rhaenys didn't hesitate to tell Elia about her kitten Balerion, which Elia seemed genuinely pleased to learn about. She even told her mother about all the time she spent playing with her Uncle Vis and her Lady Grandma. The way she said it was so cute, his heart ached just a bit. He excused himself shortly after, promising that he would be there on the morrow to bring her to the gardens to play with himself and her uncle Viserys.

 Even if the realm were falling apart, he would make time for both Viserys and his mother while he was within the capital.

 That night, the king kept the conversation light, never mentioning the tourney, nor did he rave about traitors or his disappointment in him or his bookish ways, instead  he spoke about Rhaegar’s trip back, and how quiet news had been from the Rock following Ser Jaime’s induction into the Kingsguard. Just when he thought all was clear, and he had avoided talking about Lyanna his father spoke up.

 “Have you claimed the girl yet?” the King cut the question with no preamble.

 “Excuse me, Your Grace?” he managed to choke out. His face was burning up though he wasn't sure if it was from the shock of the question or whether it was due to the fact that his father couldn't be closer to the truth even if he had tried. “I explained already, father. I have no intention to dishonor the Lady Lyanna.” and he had. But still, his father did not need to know about the specifics of his relationship with Lyanna, not until he was sure that the reveal would not put her in jeopardy.

 “Don't be a fool, anyone with eyes can see you want the girl. The longer you wait, the more difficult it could prove later on. Now that Robert has been removed I can guarantee that her Lord Father will be receiving any number of offers. Your crown all but guaranteed that, boy.” The king’s tone was mocking. A reminder that he had quite effectively made Lyanna desirable to all the realm by his own actions. The words were not said with cruelty, which was something that his Lady Mother clearly couldn't wrap her head around if the look on her face was any indication. It had been years since she had seen her brother-husband speak so candidly with anyone, especially their eldest son.

 Rhaegar sighed, already hating what was about to pass through his lips, but if his father insisted on pressing the issue, he would have no choice than to steer the outcome in a way that would not make his lawful wife seem like a whore.

 “I understand, Your Grace, truly I do. However, I would rather have her in a way that would not bring the Lady shame.” He hated himself for broaching the subject, but if ever a time was the right time, this surely was it. “The maesters say that this babe could prove too much for Elia. They say that we should prepare ourselves for the eventuality that this could be her last babe, and if that is the case, I would have little choice but to seek another bride. But I am trying to remain hopeful, for both Elia and the babe. I won't lie to you, —yes I want her, but I have a duty to my king and my family before myself. You chose Elia for me—,” he didn't bother trying to disguise his own ire toward the match that his father had chosen for him. It was already over at this point , all he could do now is play his part.

 His father however bristled at the mention of his decision to make Elia Rhaegar’s match. Apparently he had his own regrets, not that he would ever own to the fact that he had made a mistake. Instead he settled on a cryptic and rather ominous response. “Let us hope, for the Princess sake that she delivers us an heir worthy of the throne, I won't accept anything less than a true dragon from the whore.” And just like that, the King was back to his normal self.

 The rest of the meal was finished in relative silence, the King excused himself in favor of his chambers, which left his mother and Viserys to entertain him. To his delight, Vis told him all about the time he spent with Rhaenys, of all the games they made up, and how talented she had been at being a dragon just like him, even if she was born the wrong “color”, which made Rhaegar bristle a little bit. This was no doubt the influence of his father, and he could not outright put a stop to it while the king yet draws breath. He would address this slander with Vis at a later time, possibly through a lesson with the maester for there are quite a few notable Targaryen’s who are not only known for their achievements but also for the color of their hair. Prince Baelor Breakspear, and Jacaerys Velaryon and his brothers Joffrey and Lucerys, Prince Duncan and the Princess Rhaenys to name the ones that immediately came to mind. He thought about all of this and more as he carried a sleeping Viserys back to the nursery after they had finished their meal. He left his mother at her door with a kiss and a promise to speak with her about everything on the morrow and then he departed back to his own chambers.

 Before he went in, Oswell passed him a note “It's from your Lady,” was all he said.

 Nodding, he took the note in his hand and pulled back the edges to reveal the contents within.

  _“I have a need of the Godswood, can you take me?”_

He smiled, this was precisely what he needed to end his night, in truth he had intended to take the tunnel to her, but this would be just as well. “Would you see that she is escorted to the Godswood, and remain with her while she is within.” Ser Oswell nodded his understanding and set off in the direction of Lyanna’s chambers at once.  
 Alone, he entered his chambers and decided to wash and change before he set out to join Lyanna in the Godswood. Once he was finished he moved toward one of the wardrobes in his room and pushed it aside to reveal the secret tunnels that had been created during the construction of the Red Keep in the time of Maegor the Cruel. He was dead on his feet to be sure, and all he truly wanted to do was climb into his bed and let sleep take him, but all of that could wait until he had his Lyanna in his arms.

 He found her in the Hall, just beside the entrance to the Godswood awaiting his arrival. Her hair was worn loosely falling just under her waist, her silhouette was highlighted by the light of the moon. She turned when she heard his approach and a smile broke across her features before she sprinted toward him and flung herself into his arms. Sometimes he had to remind himself that this feeling she evoked within him was his new reality. He was only half living whenever she was parted from him. He wasn't sure how he had managed to live so many years not knowing her love or the touch of her lips upon his.

 He moaned against her mouth, “Gods woman, I've missed you so much.” he found himself confessing, and the truth was, he had. Even though it had only been a handful of hours since he had seen her last, every moment without her was a loss all the same. “My father suggested that I take you for my mistress, he said, and I'm quoting him ‘ _have you claimed the girl yet_?” Rhaegar parroted the King’s words with the best impersonation of his father that he could muster, which earned him an appreciative laugh from his Lya.

 She pulled back from his embrace and gave him a haughty look. “And what did you tell His Grace?” she was clearly teasing him.

 “I told him that it is not my prerogative to have you in a way that would bring you shame.” He told her honestly, though now that he was able to see her face, he could tell that she had hoped he would have played along.

_What a little minx…_

To his dismay, Lyanna fell into a fit of laughter, “Oh Rhaegar, you honorable fool.” she teased once more. “Perhaps your lady wife would prefer you took advantage of her.” she mused, causing his eyes to bulge a little.

 “Lya—,” he choked out, but was quickly cut off by her laughter once more.

 “Relax my darling husband, gosh, you should see the look on your face at the mere suggestion,” she was enjoying this. “But enough of this, I have a need of the Godswood and that is why we are here.” she began dragging him toward the woods, and this obviously was as good a time as any to start playing along.

 “Feeling nostalgic are we? It has been a little over a fortnight since our last night in the Godswood, are you certain you want to do this once more?” he asked her cheekily, pulling her toward him so that her back was flush against his chest, and his hands were firmly wrapped around her waist. “Tell me, how can I be of service, my love.” he husked into the crook of her neck.

 “I would have mentioned it earlier, but your time was limited, however I have been pacing all evening, I believe that we need to plant a seen within, and I need your help to sing them to rooting, and also protecting them when I can not be here.”

 “Come, we shall remedy this now,” he took her hand and allowed her to lead them to the spot that was calling to her. “You know, you need only tell your guard where it is you would like to go within the walls of the Red Keep and they will gladly escort you. You do not have to await me or Elia to move about, you are not a captive here.”

 The night sky was clear, the lingering evidence of their union still marked the night sky in hues of red and blue and violet. Reminding them both of the perfections of their first night as man and wife, and that no matter what anyone said, the Gods above all had fashioned her for him and him for her.

 As soon as they entered the clearing, Lyanna set off in search of the place where the earth had been calling to her, saying nothing. He decided to follow wordlessly, asking her to talk would only slow her down, and he desperately wanted to get this over with so that he could take his wife back to her room and explore her naked flesh… He was aching from the need to touch her.

 After a while, she stopped in a clearing that was lightly filled with oaks and she swept her hands in a large circle. “This is the place.” she announced, “we will plant three here.”

 Three? This was new, they had only ever planted one seed at a time thus far.

 “Why three?” he asked.

 “Why one?” she returned cheekily. “Because that is what this space requires. I don't know why, I only know that this ground calls for three, so three seeds we shall plant. And you will see to it that they are undisturbed as they grow.” it was not a request.

 “Be at ease, My Love. The Godswood is cared for, but seldom is it visited by anyone who visits or resides within the castle. I daresay you will have a monopoly on this sanctuary and I am sure that the Queen would happily look after them for you. At any rate, I doubt that the King will ever bother coming here.” he gave her a reassuring smile that was only for her, which she seemed to accept. “So, where will we plant them?”

 She moved into the first position and started pulling at the earth to create a basin to place the first seed, the song already flowing from her. When she was done, he joined her in the second and the third and together they sung these new seedlings into rooting.

 Later that night, while they lay abed Lyanna asked if it would be okay if she went to see the dragon skulls in the Throne room, her boundless curiosity for all things made him smile. He had known almost immediately that she was perfect for him, still, hearing her now only proved that she was everything that was right in this world, at least insofar as he was concerned.

 They spoke at length about Rhaenys and her new kitten, which to his disappointment, Lyanna was quite excited about. “You can learn a great deal from observing a cat.” she stated matter-of-factly.

 To that, he simply snorted, “Hard pass, my love. I shall leave that to you ladies if it is all the same.” Lyanna hadn’t been persuaded in the least, deciding at once that she would make sure he spent time with the thing. In the end, he decided that changing the subject was for the best.

 “Tomorrow, I promised Viserys that I would spend the day with him and Rhaenys in the garden, and my mother very much would like to meet you.” he confessed, hoping that she would be open to joining them after she saw the skulls.

 “You told the Queen?” she was clearly shocked.

 “She could hardly be kept in the dark, and no, I did not tell her, she already knew.” he smiled warmly, thinking about his mother’s earlier reaction.

 “Will the King be there?” she asked.

 He thought about it a bit, and it reminded him that he had wanted to speak to her about the king and his behavior after their meal earlier in the evening. “Anything is possible, I suppose. But I do not believe so, he doesn't visit her chambers often.” he paused, thinking about the best way to broach the subject. “I do have a question though… Earlier at last meal, my father was behaving—,”

 “Like he was clear in the head? Yes, I hope you don't mind, but I just really wanted to help. I've been toying with my gift a little bit, ever since I learned about the effect that I have on the King, and Howland has been helping me project my gift outward.” She took a deep breath, but understanding was already coming. “So while you were at last meal, I focused my gift outward. I wasn't sure how far it would go, but if I can help it at all while I'm here, I’d really like to try.”

 What could he say about that? Was he supposed to tell her no? Was it selfish knowing that she could help, but still wanting her as far away from the king as humanly possible? Even though in doing so he would be leaving the realm at the King’s mercy…

 “Promise me that you will not do anything that will exert yourself, or will put you in harm’s way… promise me that you will not seek out the King, and you will avoid him at all costs, unless he directly calls upon you. This includes his cronies such as Grand Maester Pycelle and Varys the Spider… And that you will allow Arthur or Oswell to escort you at all times…” They were conditions, but he felt that they were more than fair, especially within the walls of the Red Keep.

 Surprisingly she did not give him any arguments and they spent the rest of their evening enjoying each others company through light conversation, random kisses and caresses, but most of all just simply being in one another's arms. He, in truth was counting the hours until they were safely at home on Dragonstone. She fell asleep in his arms as he hummed a tune that was both familiar and foreign to him, and eventually he followed her into their dreams.

* * *

  _ **The She-Wolf**_

* * *

  She had been standing in the throne room on the second day following her arrival to King’s Landing. Court had been over a few hours now, and Rhaegar had promised her that it would not be a problem if she wanted to go and see the dragon skulls, so that is exactly what she was doing.

 There were nineteen skulls all together, all belonging to the House of her husband since the time that Balerion, Meraxes and Vhagar conquered the Seven Kingdoms, all of whom were born in Westeros, save the dread himself who was the oldest and biggest of them all. Historians say he was over three-thousand years old by the time he died, but it was not the Black Dread that had drawn her attention, it was the skull belonging to the dragon Vhagar that had called her here.

 Like the rest of the skulls, her skull was the color of pitch, and her teeth were as long as one of her legs, though admittedly Lyanna was not very tall to begin with. Still, she found herself completely enthralled by what used to be the mount of the Warrior Queen, Visenya Targaryen.

 “What do you wolves know about the dragons?” a suspicious yet familiar voice spoke up from beside her. She did not have to look to know that somehow the king had managed to walk up on her without drawing her attention.

 “Your Grace,” she paused, curtseying to the king before she continued. “Please forgive me if I am in the way. It is only, this is my first time here in the Red Keep, and I've always wanted to see her.” Lyanna found herself confessing in the dreamy tone of a girl who had just met her childhood idol without even realizing it.

 “Her? Do you fancy yourself a fan of our late Queen Visenya and Vhagar?” he probed her further, though Lyanna could detect the genuine interest in his tone.

  _He's mad, but you can temper him... He's mad, but you can temper him… He's mad, but you can temper him…_ she inhaled sharply before turning back to face the king.

 “Might I be absolutely blunt, Your Grace?” If he thought the request an odd one, he did not indicate as much, instead he nodded and motioned her to continue. She smiled to show her appreciation that he would indulge her request before she continued.

 “As His Grace knows, I am but a child still, and Winterfell is a home to hundreds of people, unlike King's Landing and the Red Keep who house thousands. I was born the only daughter of my father's four children, and my dear Lady mother departed when I was still very young, so I grew up looking to my brothers for guidance in all things. My father was loving, as all father's are to their daughters I suppose, but all I ever wanted was to learn the same things as my brothers and I was told that I could not because I was a Lady and that wasn't the way Ladies were taught. So in my lessons I found other ways to live the life I longed for, I found that life in the pages of the books and scrolls held inside our library. You see, I read a great deal at home, for lack of entertainment, as I don't have many female companions in the North and after my father sent Brandon and Eddard off to be warded, all that was left at home was myself and Benjen. So this is when I fell in love with the tale of the Conquest, but even more so with the tale of Aegon and his two queens and how they were equals beside him in battle, and in life.”

 The king's face lit up at her revelation, and why not? She was sure that this was the case for every person at one point or another. But she went on with her tale anyway. “I am sure many people have told you the very same thing, though if I'm being honest, it's Visenya who draws me in, and Vhagar who I found myself pretending to have as my own.”

 This caught the king's attention. “Visenya...” he mused, “not Rhaenys. . ? Surely you're mistaken, for every maiden wishes to be the Queen the Conqueror loved above all others.”

 Lyanna couldn't stop the snort that escaped her at his words. “Forgive me, Your Grace, that was most unlady like, it's just in my opinion love is the death of duty, and Aegon proved that after he lost her. Nay, It is Visenya who I admire the most, It was Visenya who created the Kingsguard, it was Visenya who brought the Vale into the fold, without the use of empty threats and bloodshed, it was Visenya who remained true to not only the realm when it was falling apart after the King passed and his heir hid on Dragonstone, but also to her husband and king, when times were good, and when his life was in danger. She was a warrior as skilled with a blade as the Conqueror himself and she was more than worthy of her title as Queen. I admire her, more so than almost any other reigning Queen since the time of conquest. As for Vhagar, it was her whose flame saw the Conqueror off into his final resting place, and Vhagar’s flame that Blackfyre deemed so strong that she absorbed her flame. Vhagar was as ferocious as and as infamous as Meraxes and Balerion in her time and outlived both of them, yet she is a ghost to the pages of history.” She gestured toward Vhagar’s skull. “This is all that’s left of her, no documentation on her color or the color of her flame, yet we know so much about the Dread and Meraxes.”

 “And why, pray tell is that important to you?” the king enquired.

 “Well, for starters, this told me that our Queen did not use Vhagar as a means to control her subjects, rather she passed the sentence and swung her sword on her own, no headsmen, no dragonfire unless absolutely necessary.” She could go on and on and on but the look the king gave her made her pause. “Have I said something to offend His Grace?” she questioned a bit nervously. But rather than confirm her suspicions, the corners of his mouth turned up into an almost sort of smile.

 “On the contrary, it pleases me greatly that you are so well informed on how the Wolves came to kneel to the Dragon, considering that you are now serving the Dragon in your own right so many years later. I confess, I did not expect Winterfell to have much containing our history as the leaders of all Seven Kingdoms.” He replied with not a hint of modesty in his tone. For as sane as the man appeared to be while in her presence, there was a natural cruelty to him that he could not hide. The fact that he still believes that the Dragon conquered the North  is proof of this. He may be amiable toward her, but he didn't think twice about reminding her that her kin are nonetheless subjugated to the Dragon.

 _To hell with that…_ she wasn't a fool, but the king needed to be reminded of the truth, the real reason the North bent the knee to Aegon and his Queens.

 “Oh indeed, Your Grace. The library in Winterfell has been meticulously cared for since the time that it was built. Our house is more than eight-thousand years old and we are constantly going on about the memory of the North.” _There! How’s that for a legacy!_ “For that reason, there are scrolls that date back in time to Brandon the Builder and of course a detailed accounting of the agreement between Torrhen Stark and His Grace the Conqueror…” she let the word _agreement_ hang in the air, hoping that he would catch on.

 She was quickly rewarded when he pressed forward. “What agreement? The Conqueror had three dragons, what would he need with terms when he had the power to destroy any resistance, not to mention the reputation for doing exactly that by the time the North managed to assemble south of the Neck?”

 She could not refute the King’s words, so she did not bother. “On that, His Grace is correct, yet when terms were made, it was not because Torrhen planned to oppose the Conquerors,” she paused hoping for confirmation to continue.

 “I find it hard to believe that you would know more about the conquest than the maesters who chronicled the events.” he replied.

 “To be sure, Your Grace. Yet the north had no maesters until after they bent the knee and as you know, history is told by the victor and the maesters are known for burying facts. Especially facts that would lead the reader toward more magical conclusions…” again she paused, waiting for the king to bid her continue, which he did.

 “Do explain.” he urged.

 And so she did. “Has His Grace ever been told of the Pact of Ice and Fire?” Mayhap it was too soon to mention this, but perhaps she was exactly the person to broach the subject with him.

 “Indeed I have, the Pact was made during the Dance of Dragons.” he replied, and it was as she had expected.

 “This is true, from what we have during the Dance, the new Pact was drafted through Prince Jacaerys and Lord Cregan. But the thing is, the Pact was signed for the first time between Aegon the Conqueror and the then King Torrhen Stark, for they both shared a common interest, which is the true reason he bent the knee, and the true reason I believe Aegon looked West to Westeros in the first place.” She saw the king shiver at her last words, and she was inspired to ask a new question.

 “Has His Grace ever been told of the Wight Walkers and the Last Hero?” The mentions of the Northman who set forth to seek the aid of the Children during the Long Night were far and few between, and any work that she had seen on the subject contained vague mentions at best. In truth the best source of information she had on the subject were the tales from Old Nan. However, she knew that there was another version that the King would surely know about.

 The King quirked an eyebrow, “Only mentions, go on child, speak what it is you are trying to get to already.” he said with an exasperated yet teasing tone, and once again she was taken aback by the effect her magic had on him.

 “As you say, perhaps his grace knows of another tale, one that is similar to mine in nature. A tale from the Long Night, the tale of Azor Ahai who forged the blade Lightbringer after sacrificing his willing wife, and of how her soul then combined with the blade bringing forth flame. And how he then marched forth into battle, slaying the Others and driving back the darkness.”

 The King said nothing but he nodded to indicate that he was listening and that he was aware of the story, she took this as a good sign and so she went on. Having seen all this through the dream she’d shared on her wedding night, she chose her words carefully, as to not sound too absolute.

 “It's written that Azor Ahai, Edric Shadowchaser, Yin Tar, Neferion and Hyrkoon the Hero are all different men believed to be the same man. But because all these stories begin in the East, there is no mention of the Last Hero, but the truth is these men are all one and the same.”

 Her words had the desired effect, as the King asked his first question, “How can that be possible?” his tone was incredulous, though nonthreatening. He was genuinely curious and she could not help but sigh in relief.

 “That is a very good question, Your Grace, and as I've had much time to think upon this, I think I've figured out how. You see, we all know that the Long Night was fought right here in the lands of Westeros, having come from the far north in the Lands of Always Winter. Yet these legends would have us believe that they were also fought in the Great Empire, even in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, and the only way that this could be possible would be if at one point, the lands were connected in more than one place. Or if this hero was able to cross vast distances much faster than his foes could…” she let the idea hang in the wind a moment.

“How else could a hero in Yi Ti also have saved Westeros, and the Great Empire and the world at large from the Others and their army of the dead when the Army of the Dead was defeated on our soil?” she posed the question, though she did not particularly expect the King to answer. She decided to lighten the mood before pressing forward with her explanation. “It's okay if you think me silly, Your Grace, my Lord Father tells me often that I have an overactive imagination.” It wasn't a lie, though this was never a subject they’d ever discussed in truth.

 To her surprise, however the King appeared enraptured by her tale. “Well, your father would not be wrong, but as I know you had no septa, I'm quite impressed by your accumulated historical knowledge, even if most of it can't be verified. But tell me child, now that you have educated me about the Long Night, how does this relate to Aegon and his terms?” the way he said the last part told her that the king was still skeptical.

 But she was unfazed, she smiled instead, knowing that this was exactly the question that she had wanted him to ask. “There is a prophecy, in the north, one that promises a new hero will come forth, one that will drive back the darkness once more. It is believed that this hero will have Stark blood.” His eyes went wide, but he said nothing so she went on.

 “While doing research on the subject, I came across work that outlined the lineage and lore of my house, before the conquest of course. Through that research, I discovered that the King’s of Winter following the Long Night became obsessed with their bloodline, creating strategic marriage alliances with houses rumored to have magical blood.” She did not mention the annihilation of said houses out of fear the King would have the same idea. “The Warg King's, the Marsh King’s, the Line of the First King’s of the Barrow, even the blood of the Gardner King's some say, though it is believed that House Stark descended from the line of Garth the Greenhand himself. All of this was done with one purpose in mind. They were trying to prepare their line for the next time the Long Night came. A hero who would be strong enough to lead the realms of men against the true enemy. However almost eight-thousand years later, the Long Night still hadn’t returned, but the blood of the Dragon had, and Torrhen Stark was faced with a choice and an opportunity. He could fight and sacrifice thousands of lives, all for the sake of a throne, a crown and his pride, or he could bend the knee, and save lives. Lives of men and women that would be precious in the Long Night. He chose to strengthen the North, and as such all of Westeros by proposing to the Conqueror a Pact. A Pact between House Stark, and House Targaryen to join the bloodlines through marriage. The same pact that was reaffirmed almost a century-and-a-half later. A dragon princess to wed the next Lord of Winterfell. An Ice-dragon if you will… and all the stories tell that Ice Dragons are stronger than their brothers, and Torrhen believed that the joining of the Dragon and the wolf would bring about the promised hero or at the very least the line of that hero.” she explained.

 “I see,” he replied, “So why do you think this pact was never fulfilled then?” his tone was more wary than it had been.

 “I cannot know, to be sure, Your Grace. Though I suspect that when the Conqueror had only sons with his two Queens, the Pact then fell to his heirs. As you know, our House only involves itself in the politics of the Seven Kingdoms when called upon, so mayhap the responsibility or fault, belonged as much to us as it did to those who followed King Aegon, though it would not be proper to demand anything of the Royal Family. So rather than bring it up, we resigned ourselves to the idea that it would happen when the Gods willed it to happen.”

 The King seemed pleased with her answer, “And what makes you believe that the Conqueror bought into this tale?” he questioned.

 “Another question that I can only speculate on, but if His Grace is willing to indulge my overactive imagination, I think I have an answer that can satisfy.”

 “Very well, continue.” he motioned for her to follow him away from the dragon skulls, off toward the back of the Throne Room toward what Lyanna had learned was the Small Council Chamber.

 “It is no secret that House Targaryen survived the Doom because of the dreams or visions of Daenys Targaryen, known to history as Daenys the Dreamer. And I find myself unable to deny that she was correct in her interpretation, so I asked myself how many others have had this gift of sight. I'm sure His Grace would not be surprised to hear that the citadel writes any such occurrences off as fever, delusions, and madness, but I can't help but wonder if the Conqueror came to unify and unite rather than subjugate. His grace was not remarked upon as desiring power, only that he was driven to end the constant warring of the many kingdoms of Westeros. Yet among these Kingdoms, House Stark had ruled the North as kings for longer than any House south of the Neck combined, without once being driven out of their seat. As such, Aegon could not claim his desire for the North was due to the same reasons for wanting the southern six kingdoms. So I asked myself, if it was possible that the Conqueror knew of the return of the Walkers, if his goal had been to unite the realm so that when the time came we would stand together as a single army against the dead.”

 They passed the throne as she finished speaking and her eyes fell upon the monstrosity that so many wars had been fought for and a chill ran down her spine. They say that it had been forged in the flames of the Dread, yet all she could feel was the cold coming from the thing, wave after wave after wave of cold energy. The thing felt alive…

 It wasn't until they arrived at the council chamber and he motioned for her to sit across from him did he speak. “Have you been talking to my son about his prophecy?” the suspicion was back in his tone. She could lie to him, but somehow she knew that if she did, he would see straight through it.

 “We have, Your Grace, though I'm not sure what to think about all of that. I've never read any Valyrian prophecies before, but if anyone is the fulfillment of this prophecy surely it would be His Grace’s heir, the crown prince.”

 The King waved her off, “Bah, sometimes I find myself wondering about the validity of the prophecy, yet I can't seem to keep the boy from those scrolls and books. So be honest girl, did he put you up to this _chat?_ ”

 Her eyes flew to meet the King’s for just a moment before she quickly averted them once more. “I'm sorry? You're asking me whether the prince asked me to speak of this with you?” she clarified.

 “Speak plainly, did Rhaegar ask you to talk with me about pacts and prophecy?” he asked once more, a bit of impatience coloring his tone.

 “No, Your Grace, never once has he ever asked me to speak with you on such matters. In fact, he asked me to be conscientious of where I was at all times, and to not bother Your Grace unless you specifically called upon myself. I was under strict instruction to stay out of the way.” she was trying her hardest not to fidget in front of the king. If he noticed he did not remark upon it.

 “I see,” the king replied. “I find you quite odd Lady Lyanna, I do not mean this as an insult, on the contrary in fact. I don't think I've met anyone in years who I've enjoyed speaking with as I do you. I cannot help but wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that you are so unconventional. Tell me, if you had not been called to court, how would you prefer to spend your time?”

  _What a dangerous question…_ she thought to herself but she knew in an instant her answer, and once she had made her mind up there was no going back. She chuckled, “I would prefer a great many things that my Lord Father would never allow. Yet if I am being honest, I believe His Grace already knows the answer. I would like to be training beside my brothers in the yard, learning to protect myself and my people the way Visenya did, growing up beside the Conqueror.” She confessed for the first time in her life to someone other than Benjen or Rhaegar.

 “You don't believe a woman’s duty is to her husband, and that giving him heirs is glory enough?” he was testing her response, she could tell.

 “There is much to be celebrated about such things, yet a woman can be both, can she not? A warrior and a dutiful wife, I would much rather be an asset to my Lord Husband than a liability. Visenya proved that by aiding her husband before, during and after his reign, and she also managed to give him a strong heir, a true dragon.”

 She could see that her answer had pleased him greatly, though he didn't have the opportunity to respond as just then, footsteps were heard approaching from the throne room and then Rhaegar was there, with the Queen his mother standing beside him.

* * *

**_The Silver Prince_ **

* * *

  The next day he woke early, Lyanna was still sleeping soundly with her head in the crook of his arm. He hated leaving her but he needed to get to his chambers before someone noticed his absence, so he deftly extracted himself from her embrace and placed a kiss upon her brow before slipping back through the panel in the wall that leads to the secret passages that would take him back to Maegor’s Holdfast.

 After he broke his fast, he made his way to the Tower of the Hand where Lord Owen Marryweather was now serving as the new Hand. He had no business per se’ he only intended to check up on the affairs of the realm. Luckily enough, the council had been in session, his father noticeably absent as per usual.

  
 After being properly greeted by all who attended, Rhaegar went toward the chair typically reserved for the King and bid them continue with the meeting. Aside from the King’s command to continue with the trials of the men within the dungeons, all was quiet. Something that sat ill with him in truth. With all that had happened at Harrenhal, the fact that there was no information coming from the Rock or even the Vale and the Stormlands via Robert at the slight he felt he was paid by his father and himself over Lyanna, even though their betrothal had never been set in stone. He left the council chamber with more questions than he had answers.

 That afternoon he spent in the Gardens with his daughter and his brother as promised, skipping court all together. Elia had decided to forego the gardens for some much needed rest, he could see that the trip to Harrenhal and back had taken more from her than she would admit.

 By mid afternoon the septas came to retrieve the two dragonlings for some lunch and a nap, and Rhaegar found himself escorting his mother on a walk through the castle. “So, tell me about your lady,” she whispered conspiratorially.

 He could not stop himself from smiling at his mother’s eagerness to learn all she could about his mate. “I hardly have the words to describe her mother, she is like a breath of fresh air, as if I have never breathed before she entered my life. She is full of life and vitality, she is honorable and chivalrous and uninhibited, in ways that is completely foreign to me. She is stubborn, fearless and reckless at times, and I am completely bewitched by her mother.” he paused, because the thing he wanted to tell her was nothing to do with the type of person Lyanna was, but what she was in general.

 “Mother, there is more about Lady Lyanna than her being my mate, there is more to Lyanna than her simply being a woman of the North. She was born like I was, only not in fire.” the look on his mother’s face was one of confusion.

 “Does this have anything to do with the King’s behavior last evening?” She questioned warily.

 He had no idea how he was going to explain things with Lyanna… “As you know, when my Ink Mark appeared it emitted heat, representing fire. Well Lyanna is much the same, as her mark burns too, only hers burns with cold. Around fifteen years ago there was a random blizzard,” his mother nodded, indicating that she knew the storm. “That night Lady Lyarra Stark gave birth to a baby girl. They say that the storm raged on until she came screaming into the world. So you see, like me, who was born in the flames, Lyanna was born with ice running through her veins. There is so much about her, but what I think you should know is that the Old Gods have chosen Lyanna, and it is her blood that triggered the marks.”

 Her eyes went wide, and he could tell that for the first time she found herself believing in the prophecy. “I see, and how does your father play into all of this?”

 “It has a lot to do with Summerhall and the ceremony that was performed there. It would be better for you to have this conversation with Lyanna, she has a better understanding of her gift, but the short explanation is the fire within us burns too hot, and Lyanna is meant to balance the fire within our blood, our line will have both the magic of the First Men and the blood of the Dragon. Her mark burns like only the cold can, and as such she can project her gift outward and somehow it has an effect on father. Before you ask, I regret that she cannot cure his madness, she is only a temporary source of relief for him. We were able to determine this through a crannogman who was assigned to be our guide by a greenseer who is our kin.”

 Again she took on a puzzled look, and he could understand her predicament so he took pity on her. “I am not referring to Uncle Aemon, but as it turns out, Brynden Rivers is alive beyond the wall, and he is a powerful seer and warg. Howland Reed, was summoned to the Isle of Faces through the weirwood. It was on the Isle that he was given his task to make sure that Lyanna and I were brought together, and the customs of the Old Gods and the First Men were honored. I want to say more but this conversation is best had elsewhere from here on out.”

 They were approaching the Throne Room where he knew that Lyanna had gone to see the Dragon Skulls so the conversation would have to wait. His mother, understanding nodded her agreement.

 After entering, he noticed that Lyanna was not there but he could hear voices coming from the Council chamber and he headed in that direction, hoping that someone could point him in her direction. To his surprise, they found Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold standing in the hallway, with Oswell sporting an apologetic look.

 What they found within almost made his Lady mother faint. Lyanna was seated across from the King, having a conversation about Visenya Targaryen and the King seemed quite invested in the topic.

 They must have heard their approach, because when Lyanna turned to see him and the Queen standing in the doorway, her mouth hung open in shock, no doubt having been snared by the King on her first solo outing. She stood immediately, remembering her manners and greeted them both, mostly for the benefit of the Queen and the King. Jon had worried that her age would present a problem coupled by her willful nature, but so far she had managed to play her role perfectly.

 He decided to lead with something quirky, “Have you named a new council position Your Grace?” Lyanna flushed her perfect shade of pink, and he almost went straight to her and carried her off to her chambers.

 “Don't be silly, I found the girl in the Throne Room dreaming of flying Vhagar.” the king said with a smile.

 Beside him, his mother could not help but stare at her seemingly more sane brother and husband, she stepped forward for him to introduce her to Lyanna. “Your Grace, might I introduce you to the Lady Lyanna of House Stark.” His mother breezed past him and approached Lyanna.

 “Lady Lyanna, I have heard so much about you and I can see that the rumors were not exaggerated for once.” again, Lyanna flushed at compliment.

 “Your Grace is too kind, but I thank you for your kind words.” Lyanna replied.  
 He decided to save her and asked another question. “So, did we interrupt an important conversation?”

 “Not at all, my Prince. His Grace was very kind and indulged me while I gushed about my childhood heroine.” she turned gesturing to the king.

 Rhaegar raised an eyebrow at that bit of information, but his father quickly cut in. “Rhaegar, Rhaella, come and sit I would like to speak with both of you.”

Lyanna clearly felt out of place, and offered to give them the room but was quickly told to stay. “This concerns you as well, girl.”

 He had no idea what this was all about but he was determined to remain optimistic while his mate was present. Rather than question, he made his way toward the council table and sat in the chair beside Lyanna, while his mother sat across from them on the other side of the King.

 “We have had a response from Lord Rickard from Winterfell about Lyanna’s stay.” he began. Lyanna went rigid with anticipation of her father's words. His father continued, “Lord Stark writes that he is honored to know that his daughter was chosen to accompany the Princess, and he also assured me that he had no intention to finalize the match until he was more certain of Lord Baratheon’s character. Nevertheless, you will still travel to Winterfell and remind him that he and his House are sworn to House Targaryen, and that any such matches for the Lady will be forwarded to the crown for approval.” He continued, “As for our conversation, the Lady was educating me about the North, and some of their history. I'm of a mind to make some changes based on this conversation. It is only fair that I inform you of this, as I have much to consider on the matter.”

 “I don't understand,” he replied for all three of them.

 “It has come to my attention that we have been neglectful of a debt.” the King's eyes traveled to Lyanna and then to him. “And I realize now that your Lady wife is not capable of fulfilling your prophecy, therefore I am considering the idea of you taking another wife or setting the Dornish woman aside on the grounds of her health and the fact that it was not disclosed prior to the contract being signed. If she is unable to give you heirs, her womb is useless and we have no need of another useless Queen unable to do her duty.”

 He hadn’t expected anything of the sort when his father had told him to sit, but he had no idea how to respond to the King’s announcement. Luckily it was Lyanna who spoke up, “Your Grace, forgive me but I'm not sure I understand. The prince is already wed with a child and one on the way, how would that work and how do I fit into this equation?”

 “Know this, I may not leave the Red Keep often, but as the King I will not be refused. The faith will make an exception if I petition them, if not Rhaegar will take a second bride and I will arrange for Elia to be moved if she should prove difficult. For now though nothing is certain, as I have said there is much to consider and if this is to happen I have some people to consult, but no matter what happens, if this is to be the course of action, you will both do your duty.”

 Neither of them knew what to say on the matter, and he could tell that Lyanna was completely at a loss. His mother sat beside her husband in silence as usual, knowing from experience he did not like it when she questioned him. No matter how sure Lyanna’s influence was over his father, he knew that his mother would not put stock in her own safety in the presence of the King.

 His father stood, and they stood with him. “I shall take my leave now, I thank you for entertaining me Lady Lyanna,” then he turned his attention toward him. “I trust that you will escort the Queen and Lady Lyanna back to their destinations?” It was more of an expectation than a request, but still he had every intention to take Lyanna with him when he departed the council chamber.

* * *

  ** _The She-Wolf_**

* * *

 They walked in silence for a time unsure of what to say. To be honest, the Queen hadn’t said much since they were introduced earlier. Eventually they found themselves in Maegor’s Holdfast before a set of double doors that lead into an opulent space even more grand than the chambers that she had been assigned the day before.

 The Queen was a beauty, her hair was as silver as her sons and her eyes were a light shade of lilac, nothing like the deep indigo her son was gifted. She was sure that she looked plain in comparison to the both of them.

 Once the door to her solar had been secured behind them, the Queen turned to Lyanna and pulled her into an unexpected embrace, and immediately Lyanna melted into her arms. She knew the Queen not, but to have her embrace her as she did was like having her own mother returned to her, so without hesitation she returned the embrace.

  
 When the Queen pulled away, she kept a hold on her hands and looked her over before speaking. “You are a beauty, aren’t you.” It wasn't really a question and Lyanna couldn't stop the blush that once again betrayed her, giving away her reaction. “Please, come and sit beside me I hear that we have much to discuss, and I would very much love to know the woman who has not only been promised to him by the Gods themselves but the woman who managed to bring a smile to my son's face, and joy to his life.”

 Lyanna liked her immediately, and so she followed her toward a sitting area and settled on a chaise beside Rhaegar who had remained quiet since they departed ways with the King. She wasn't sure how to proceed with the Queen, this whole thing felt like one long interview. First, the conversation with the King, and now the Queen. Rhaegar must have sensed her unease, because he took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze to reassure her that he was with her, and all would be well.

 “My son and I were speaking, on the way to find you and he was explaining to me that it's you that we have to thank for the sudden change in my husbands condition. While I have no complaints on the matter, I have many questions if you would be willing to indulge me. I understand that you have an affinity for the cold?” the Queen sounded unsure, so she decided to help.

 They spoke at length for what must have been an hour, Lyanna filled her in on what she had learned from Howland about her gift, and how she ended up with the ability to temper the King’s fire so to speak. It was then that Lyanna remembered what Howland had said about the Queens ability to carry children. She wanted to tell her about it, but she wasn't sure if it would be well received, given all the losses the Queen had experienced, but perhaps this would be like music to the Queens ears, so she steeled herself for the worst possible outcome but tried to be optimistic as well.

 “Your Grace, there is something else about my gift that you should understand, something that concerns you as well.” Rhaegar turned to her, not knowing what she was speaking of as she had somehow neglected to tell him about this.

 “Oh, sweetling whatever it is please be at ease, you can talk to me about anything. I should like that you would consider me like a mother.” the Queen allowed, a hint of melancholy in her tone.

 Taking a deep breath, Lyanna began to explain to her what she knew. “As you know, the king's condition was exacerbated by his imprisonment at Duskendale, though the symptoms began after Summerhall. The ritual that King Aegon used was to wake dragons as you know, only something went wrong and Summerhall along with your kin were the cost of that mistake. However, somehow the magic that was used was successful. You see a dragon was born that night.” she gestured to her husband who had the grace to look like he had no idea. “But he was not the only one who was awakened that night. From what I know, the ability to hatch dragons was lost after the female line was all but wiped out during the Dance of Dragons, with Princess Baela being the last dragon rider. But that night in Summerhall, the magic was reborn in you.”

 She could see that the queen had no idea what she meant so she tried again to explain. “I'm not sure if I can properly explain this, Your Grace, but I will try my best. From what I have gathered and from what I have learned from Howland, the magic to hatch and ride dragons is passed from the female line, as is the magic of the first men passed from mother to child. What you aren’t aware of is that Rhaegar has had a connection to fire his entire life, and the night he was born he had awoken a creature that has been believed to be gone for more than a century. And all of that was possible, because you are his mother, and you happened to be present during the ceremony. The fire of the dragon runs too hot in your veins Your Grace, due to the wildfire that had been used in place of dragonfire. Because of that there is nothing short of my gift that can help to temper the flame. The same issue presents itself in the King, and together you have produced many children who were unable to survive the time in your womb, and those who have did not survive for long after. And the difference between Rhaegar and the others resides in the fact that Rhaegar was born through sacrifice while the others have had nothing to help temper the fire that burns within your womb.”

 Queen Rhaella said nothing for quite a while, her face had taken on a pale cast at hearing Lyanna’s explanation. When she finally did speak though, her voice came out strong and sure. “How was Viserys able to survive while the others were not?”

 Lyanna had been prepared to answer this question before the Queen had asked but she hadn’t been sure of how to broach the subject. “The truth is, Viserys is different insofar as he is no true Dragon. If he was given a crib egg, it would not hatch for him, as his fire is not as hot as your’s or Rhaegar’s, while the others were which is why your womb had become hostile. However, should he have the chance to claim a dragon that would not be a problem. I need you to know, the only reason I brought up all of this is because I seem to be the answer to your problem in addition to the King’s madness. My gift is meant to temper the fire, and because of that it also has the ability to help ground yours through pregnancy should you find yourself with child in the future.”

 She wasn't sure when the Queen began to tear up, but by the time she had finished her explanation, she found her wiping a stray tear from her eyes. Rhaegar similarly was stunned by this development, though she could see a tinge of fear in his eyes at the same time. She wasn't sure why this unsettled her, she would think that the idea of a healthy new sibling would be a joy to him. She made a mental note to ask him about it later.

 “I've had word from the ship's captain that they will be prepared to depart on the morrow,” Rhaegar announced, breaking the growing silence. And even though she would not mind exploring the Red Keep some more, she was more than ready to get this adventure over with so that she could return home and see her father and the grey walls of Winterfell.

 After that, they all broke into an easy conversation. They spoke about the events of Harrenhal, the appearance of her mark, and her feelings on Robert Baratheon amongst other things. Though eventually they were forced to cease their conversation when her stomach let out a loud growl.

 “It would seem that I have been neglectful this afternoon,” she mused aloud, smiling at the realization and the look of panic on Rhaegar’s face. It had been just over a fortnight since they were wed, and even though her moons blood was supposed to have come three days past, it was still too early to assume that his seed had quickened. Nevertheless, her husband insisted on fussing over her.

 Rhaegar stood and offered her his hand, “Come, my love. It would appear that I have to make sure you eat myself.” he said exasperatedly, making her roll her eyes at him. “I do hope you don't mind mother, but I mean to escort Lyanna back to her chambers.”

 “Of course I don't, though I shall be grateful to have your company again in the future.” the Queen said in a tone that conveyed nothing but sincerity.

 “It would be a pleasure to visit with you in the future, Your Grace.” Lyanna returned with a curtsey.

 “Please, call me Rhaella, or mother… I would very much love for you to consider me as your family, for I already consider you as one of my own.” Lyanna was shocked and unsure how to proceed at the same time. So she did the only thing she could do, she released Rhaegar’s hand and walked toward her now good-mother and embraced her the way the Queen had done earlier.

 “Nothing would please me more than to be blessed with another mother, especially one that has raised the man that I love so well.” she finished with a smile.

  After that, they made their goodbyes and set off for her chambers. After the afternoon they had with the king and the queen, Rhaegar did not hesitate to enter her chambers with her and bar the door once he sent a servant to get something for her to eat.

 She wasn't particularly tired, but she did feel a certain amount of fatigue in her bones, so as soon as Rhaegar sat on her bed, she moved in and sat beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. She had been craving his touch ever since she saw him in the council chamber. If nothing else, the voyage to Dragonstone would be more than welcome, as she would no longer have to spend her days away from him.

 After the servants delivered her meal, and she had eaten enough to satisfy her husband, he helped her out of her dress and she his tunic, and they settled into bed for some rest before he was forced to depart. She hadn’t seen Ned and Ashara since they arrived the day before, but she couldn't think about that right now.

 “Rhaegar?” she called.

 “What is it beloved?” he murmured into her hair.

 “What do you think about what your father was talking about earlier?” she asked. Not that it had mattered in the grand scheme of things, for they were already wed and he and Elia had already had their marriage annulled.

 “I honestly don't know.” he sighed. “Of course you know that it won't matter, we are already wed in the eyes of the Gods, Old and New, but I don't understand the influence you have on my father and I worry about how much to tell him in regards to our situation. The fact that we did not consult him beforehand, would typically be enough to have him accuse us of treason, and of plotting against him. But I confess, it is possible that if you were there when he learned of the marks and our vows, along with Elia being set aside, the king would be more accepting of the news. Alas, I dare not push our luck.” he finished.

 Not the news she wanted to hear, though she knew that it was for the best, she did not like the idea of not being more open about their marriage. “I respect your decision, though you will have to do some serious thinking about how you plan to explain to the King my condition should it prove that I am in fact with child.” She hated being the bearer of bad news, but this was a fact that they could not ignore. At the most they had a matter of months to get this all worked out before the King became suspicious and the realm came to think of his children as bastards due to the King’s ignorance.

  
 “I've been thinking about that as well, and honestly I was hoping that with any luck, the king would be a non issue by the time your condition is too far along to keep concealed, the other option that I have considered is the Gates. If at any point, things become too dangerous, I had a mind to have you return to Winterfell through the gates where you would be inaccessible to anyone who would mean you harm.” he explained.

 She thought about that, and she could not deny that he was on to something she had not considered at all. Her lord father would be beside himself with worry should she become pregnant and was left to the King’s mercy, and she was sure that he would prefer her remain in the North. Not to mention the fact that he was right, the North was near impossible to invade by land thanks to Moat Cailin and the bogs that made up the Neck. But they had a little bit of time to think on all of that later on. For now she had other needs and one of them was sleep.

 Before she dozed off, she turned to her side and pulled Rhaegar’s arm around her so that his chest was flush against her back, and his body was snuggly formed against hers. If he could have been closer, she would have insisted. Something about him made her instantly feel at ease. And being here, in this strange place that would one day be her home, and the home of her children she most certainly needed the extra reassurance only his embrace could give her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting so patiently for me to update this chapter. Though not my longest it is quite a read, I hope that you enjoy it and please don't hesitate to like, subscribe, and if you have some time, to leave your feedback.


	22. Voyage of Destiny and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, finally we have an Ashara segment.. I was feeling like Ash needed a little time to shine, so I chose to dig a little deeper into her story a bit. 
> 
> Lyanna finally gets to explore Dragonstone, and let her curiosity take center stage. All the while, she’s going through some pretty significant changes and Rhaegar is trying his best to help her navigate through this new environment as best as possible. 
> 
> They both find themself in unfamiliar territory now that they don’t have to be quite so guarded around others, and Rhaegar is still figuring out how to not only be the Heir to the Iron Throne, but also a normal person, with insecurities, and fears, and vulnerabilities. 
> 
> We bounce over to the Rock, for a rare look into Tywin Lannister and Cersei, the green-eyed monster... don’t get too used to certain character POV’s they may not always be reoccurring. 
> 
> Lastly we round things off with Elia and Arthur one on one time, followed up with Rhaegar and the gang all together.

 

* * *

**The Falling Star**

* * *

  The trip from Harrenhal the day following her union with Ned went by without much fuss. After a night of lovemaking she and Ned had been granted the opportunity to lay in slightly longer than normal.

 Rhaegar and Lyanna had stayed on the Isle for reasons known only to the both of them, which had afforded both her and her mate a little more time in the privacy of their pavilion. And over the days that had since passed, her bond with Ned had only continued to grow.

 Every day, Ned shared something new with her, whether it was about home, his childhood, his family, or even about his time fostering in the Eyrie and each time she found something else to love about her mate.

 If anyone had told her before she met Ned, one day she would find a man with whom she couldn’t live without , she would have laughed right in their face. For she had truly believed that she would never marry and give up her individuality to be some Lords wife. She needn’t take a husband to be a mother, especially not in Dorne. Besides, the only way she would ever inherit Starfall would be if Aedric died before siring a child of his own.

She had honestly believed that she’d had it all figured out… But now, everything is different, now she had a love all her own as well as two new sisters and quite a few new brothers by law.

 Lyanna was unlike anyone she had ever met and the differences between the two of them were astounding, yet even still there are moments when she is unable to tell where she-wolf ends and the quiet-wolf begins.

 Ned indulges his sister the way Arthur and Aedric would her when she was but a girl. Where Ned is quiet and reserved, Lyanna is the complete opposite, always wanting to ride, and joke and fight, and anything else she could manage that didn’t include sewing or embroidery, wearing dresses or gossiping the way most ladies tend to do, which always seems to bring Ned out of his shell. They were a balance of sorts, like the sun and the moon, or winter and summer… both essential to the balance of all things.

 It was her time alone with him that truly made a difference. The first time, Ned had been shy. She knew that he had desired her but still, it took for her to make the first move, but once she had removed her dress and curled herself around him and kissed him hungrily, the quiet and shy wolf had all but disappeared. Now, her greedy husband would steal away with her whenever they could.

 Once they had arrived in King's Landing things became slightly more difficult, with no acknowledgement of a betrothal or ceremony to celebrate their union they were to the realm, two yet unmarried people. Therefore they had been given chambers separate from one another while inside the Red Keep. It had been horrible but also in their best interest to keep their relationship out of Varys knowing reach. She may not have been high up on the King's list of targets, but that didn’t mean Ned was safe should the king find it in him to use either of them as leverage against the other.

 However, someone must have anticipated this because Ned had been placed in the room directly beside hers and was joined by an outer balcony which allowed for her and him to join the other when the sun had retired and the moon ruled over the night. She would have to thank whomever had the forethought to think of their needs when choosing their chambers.

 She had made Ned promise that this would be the last time they would allow someone to separate them, which to her delight he immediately acquiesced to. Thankfully, their stay in King's Landing had been pleasantly brief. She loved to be in the company of the Queen, but Dragonstone had become a sort of second home and soon even that would change should Ned’s Lord Father command them to remain in the North.

 It was a scary thought to consider in truth, she had only ever known Dorne and the south. Her people were followers of the Seven and even though she descended from the blood of the First Men, she had never truly seen a real winter.

  _Would the North even accept her?_

 Normally she wouldn’t even care, most people found her infectious to be around, but somehow this felt different. Before meeting Ned and his _pack_ she had only ever been Ashara Dayne of Starfall; a Dornishwoman; sister of Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. These small things made up the foundation of who she’d essentially been, never once acknowledging that her line hailed from the same blood as the men and women of the North, the blood of the First Men.

  The feeling was something similar to meeting long lost kin and wondering whether you would be deemed worthy of their love and protection. She could only hope, in spite of Ned’s reassurances.

 “You wed before a Heart Tree, on the Isle of Faces at that. You needn’t worry so much. Yes our people are wary of outsiders, but the God’s created you for me, and me for you. There is no greater blessing than that. Besides, how many people can boast of being wed before the World Tree? Aside from the two of us, there is only Lyanna and the Prince.” His words were kind and reassuring and exactly what she needed in the moment.

 On the morning of the second day, she brought Ned to meet the Queen before they departed. Rhaella and Viserys were out in the gardens spending time enjoying some fresh air.  

  The morning had been exceptionally warm, so Vis was almost naked and waist deep in one of the many fountains that decorated the royal gardens.

 It had only been a brief encounter but since they were to be departing, she refused to do so without seeing the Queen first.

  It had been over a moon since they had departed King's Landing in favor of Harrenhal and the tourney and so much had happened since then, including discovering the meaning of her mark and Ned and Lyanna. Thus, she craved the warmth Queen Rhaella always provides her. She loved her Lady Mother, this much was true but there was a kind of comfort that only the Queen could provide her, it has always been thus.

 Rhaella never failed in this regard and the moment her lilac eyes had met Ashara’s violet eyes, the Queen rushed from her seat and pulled her into a warm embrace, holding her tight before pulling back to get a proper look at her appearance.

 “Ashara, my dear, how I’ve missed your beautiful face. Do tell me, how are you doing?” Rhaella smiled warmly to her before taking note of Ned who was standing shyly a few paces behind her. The Queen gave a questioning look and then asked, “and who is this that you’ve brought with you?”

 If she had ever considered herself an expert at masking her emotions all of that was out the window the moment Ned had entered her life.

 The smile that came across her face at the mention of her mate was all the answer the Queen needed. So rather than explain, she turned to Ned and reached her hand out toward him, beckoning him forward. Rather than shying away, her quiet wolf stepped forward, a look of determination on his face.

How he’d changed in the short time they had been together. Ashara couldn't help but hope that this was a side effect of her love and her promise to be his voice whenever he found himself without words.

 “Your Highness, might I present you to Eddard Stark, son to Lord Rickard of House Stark and brother to Princess Lyanna,”  She was mindful of her tone, and said the last part so that only the Queen could hear. “And also, my Lord Husband and mate,” she quickly added.

 The Queen’s look of shock was not lost on her but she didn’t waste any time pulling Ashara’s hand to her and pushing back the bracelets she used to conceal her mark from unwanted eyes. She gasped the moment it came into view.

 “When?” was all Rhaella managed to ask.

 “At the same moment Rhaegar received his, and Ned and Lyanna received theirs I suspect. Only I had no idea what it meant until I saw Ned watching me at the opening feast, after that, the rest is history. We spoke our vows just before Rhaegar and Lyanna on the Isle of Faces.” she told the queen.

 “Why?” The Queen blurted.

The question confused her, so she parroted the words back to the Queen. “Why?”

 “What purpose does your union represent?” Still the Queens question had thrown her yet again.

 Ned must have felt her growing unease because he decided this would be the perfect time to speak up. “Your Grace, it is an honor to finally meet you. I believe I understand your question,” he glanced toward her before he continued.

“If I may?” He waited for her to give her leave before he explained further.

 She was once again reminded of how singular her mate was, surely most men would not defer to their spouses. She nodded her assent with ease. There was also the fact that she hadn’t a clue as to what the Queen had meant, and if Ned could provide clarification on the matter, who was she to deny such a request?

 “If I understand correctly, you are referring to the necessity of the union between Ashara and myself?” He questioned to be sure he had the right of it. Queen Rhaella nodded, confirming that this indeed was what she wanted to know.

 “Lyanna and the Prince are confirmed to be the union of Ice and Fire, two of the most powerful elements in our world. Both necessary to temper one another, both needed to provide balance. I understand this because of Howland Reed, but there is more of a need for him to guide both Prince Rhaegar and Princess Lyanna.”

  “Whereas our marks weren’t quite as clear. It wasn’t until just before we said our vows did I understand.” He paused, “Do you remember what the Greenmen said to Prince Rhaegar and Lya before we said our vows?”

 She considered his question a moment, “Earth and Sky,” but she hadn’t thought much about it, neither then or in the time since.

 Ned nodded, affirming what she had guessed. “The wolf is of the land, of the deep forests and snow capped hills and mountains. They do not fly, yet they are one with the moon. And you, my love are a star, sent from the heavens. Never in the written history of our Houses has there been a union between Stark and Dayne, nor Targaryen and Stark.”

 “You are a daughter of Nymeria through Davos Dayne, which also ties you to water. Mine is the blood of the Marsh King's which ties me to the earth…” he left the rest unsaid.

 The Queen listened in silence, no doubt needing to work things over. If Ashara had to be honest, she had herself, neglected the specifics of their match, which in hindsight seemed rather foolish.

 Eventually, the queen responded, “I can see how much you and our dear Lyanna have in common, Lord Eddard. She too has a talent for seeing that which is not plain to most people.” Rhaella smiled warmly and Ned happily returned the gesture.

 “Her Grace is very kind for saying so.” Ned returned.

 “I will tell you as I have told your sister, and your wife as well,” The Queen approached Ned, taking his hands in her own. “My family is growing, and this includes both you and Lyanna. Ashara is my kin but she is also like a daughter to me and in some sense you are kin to me as well, through my grandmother Betha Blackwood. I appreciate that you’ve remembered your courtesies, but I must insist that while it is just us, you would address me as you would a parent or a sibling, or even an aunt or uncle,” she said, cupping his cheeks between her delicate hands.

“You are most welcomed here my boy, and I’m eternally grateful for the joy that you have already brought to my darling star.”

 They stayed with the Queen a while longer, catching up on the events that had transpired while they had been absent. Unfortunately the time came when they had to bid their farewells, knowing that Elia and Rhaenys were likely waiting on them to arrive before they set off to join Rhaegar and Arthur and all the rest of their party who were ready to set out for the ship that would carry them to Dragonstone.

 That night, the ship rocked and swayed back and forth over the angry waves of the Blackwater as the sails pulled them toward their destination. The constant back and forth had made it impossible to eat anything, so she retired to the cabin that had been assigned to Ned and herself for a bit of rest, while Ned sat with Arthur, Oswell and the Prince discussing their plans for the coming weeks.

 Elia still hadn’t recovered from her journey back to King's Landing following the tourney and Ashara could not help but fear that this voyage, no matter how short did nothing to ease her.

  Arthur for the most part had been remiss to leave her side in favor of his duties as kingsguard, but Elia wouldn’t have it, telling him that his hovering did nothing more than make her annoyed. Ashara knew that the words were said with fondness and her brother knew as well, which is why, against his better judgment he was above deck with everyone else, save for Rhaenys and Lyanna who were both somewhere aboard the ship playing together.

 Rhaenys had been shy at first but Lyanna had quickly won her over, getting down on the floor to play at her level. It was perfectly clear that Lya had just the right amount of energy for the little dragonling. She didn’t even seem to mind Balerion to Rhaenys apparent joy, though Rhaenys clearly believed him to be a dragon and Lyanna did not once seek to correct this assertion.

 That night, after she drifted off to sleep, she dreamt of Starfall.

   _She was walking down a long corridor that she knew lead toward the great hall, no one was there that she could see._

_The moon shone brightly through the stained glass windows that depicted the origins of Starfall, and their ancestral blade Dawn. The next moment, she was walking down a long stair that she knew not._

_As she descended, the air grew colder, like the breeze that would blow directly off the waters of the Torrentine, bringing a reprieve from the merciless Dornish sun._

_The walls began to lighten the further that she went, when she finally reached the bottom she swore that they almost had a glow to them, similar to the way that Dawn would glow._

_A few feet away she found a set of doors with a moon and the stars carved into the pale wood… weirwood?_

_This couldn’t be more than a dream, this room, these stairs, these doors, do not exist... for if they had, surely she would have known. Nor have they ever had a Weirwood, unless this door was carved from one of the many Weirwoods that had been cut down before the Pact on the Isle between her people and the Children._

_The thought that her ancestors had partook in the cutting down of the Weirwoods would have been enough to turn her stomach had she not been dreaming._

_She pushed on the doors to see if they were locked and to her surprise the doors gave way, opening up into a cavernous chamber that was alive with light. The walls were again the color of milkglass, like Dawn, but there was no natural light that entered the chamber, no torch, no window, nothing._

_The walls were rough, as though they had never been shaped by a stonemason and in the center of the chamber lay a workbench and a forge, ancient and unused, though there was not a speck of dust to be seen within the chamber._

_There was something eerily comforting about the space and she had a feeling she knew why. Around her she found a few barrels filled with the same material as the walls surrounding her, and on the opposite wall she found a trove of ancient scrolls and tomes on metallurgy as well as some containing secrets brought from the Chroyane, of the water magics of the people of the Rhyone and of their cities that were shielded by walls of water that would rise up and drown their enemies._

_Her dream changed once more, now she was an observer rather than a participant… before her, a woman with long black hair and sunkissed skin stood amongst a crowd of people, who were watching as she brought water to the driest places in Dorne._

_Next she saw the Rhyone, and what she believed to be the Sorrows, where Prince Garin had called upon the Rhyone to defeat the Valyrian freehold who had invaded their lands and was now home to the Stonemen and other such strange creatures._

_Then came an image of blue eyed corpses trapped beneath the sea, unable to escape the watery halls that now served as a prison. And a black ship, crewed by men who go about their tasks in complete silence._

_Next she found herself looking down upon a city surrounded by barren lands and high walls, A voice echoes in her head._

_“The center of the Earth,”_

_“The Gateway,”_

_“The Eastern Hinge,”_

_“After Darkness comes the Dawn.”_

_The images were changing ever faster as they went..._

_“The Sword of the Evening!” A loud crowd calls to their leader who slew the army of the dead with unwavering accuracy and determination._

_Finally she watched as Nymeria stood before the gates of Starfall, facing thousands of armed soldiers. Beside her, a man stood who was bound in fetters. He looked like Arthur but with raven hair like her own. “Vorian Dayne, former King of the Torrentine, you have been defeated in battle. Will you bend the knee and swear your fealty?” No answer came forth._

_“Very well. I, Nymeria, a Princess of Ny Sar and Conqueror of Dorne sentence you to live the rest of your days serving the realm at the Wall. From this day forward the title Sword of the Evening will be tainted by your failure, and as such a new title will be bestowed upon the next who is chosen to wield her. This is a new day for Dorne and for the Daynes of Starfall. Therefore forever more those who are deemed worthy will henceforth be known as the Sword of the Morning, for this is a new day, a new Dawn!”_

 Her dream faded to blackness and she awoke to find Ned climbing into bed beside her. She had no idea of the hour, but now that he was here, all she wanted was to be held in the comfort of his embrace. She would seek out Howland, Arthur and all the rest of them on the morrow to tell them about what she saw, but for now she had all she needed...

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 They had set sail the day before, after saying their goodbyes, and visiting the Godswood once more. To her surprise, the seedlings had already broken ground. Normally, this wouldn’t be the case, weirwoods take their time growing, as do most trees, but she suspected this location had more magical purposes in mind. 

  The Blackwater was calm from what the men claimed, she wouldn’t know. As this had been her first time aboard a ship, and in her opinion, calm was not the way she would describe being jostled about. Luckily, the little Princess seemed to enjoy the motion and was a great distraction while everyone was above the deck. It also gave her a chance to get to know Princess Rhaenys a bit, and maybe earn her trust.

  The idea of playing with a babe again was more of a joy to her. She understood that she was a woman grown, but she was not an _old_ woman, and she was perfectly capable of playing with a toddler. After all her years at home with Benjen, having small children around somehow made the transition easier for her. 

  Well, that and the fact that the little princess was absolutely adorable. She had absolutely no filter, saying what she thought, even if the words weren’t quite perfect. She was obviously intelligent, her vocabulary was astounding considering her age. But she was clever... and Lyanna respected that above all else. 

  She filled her days aboard the ship spending time with Rhaenys, and her kitten Balerion. And she spent her nights tangled in her husbands embrace. 

  Typically she would retire on her own, and eventually he would join her, always pressing a kiss to her brow to let her know that he’s there. And never leaving her side until she wakes with him the following morning. 

 Tonight she had found herself particularly tired so she excused herself early, and made for their shared cabin. She hadn’t felt sick, but being aboard this shaking, groaning and swaying ship made her body ache and she felt tired no matter how long she rested. And her dreams had taken on a life of their own ever since she boarded this ship...

_She was flying above a frozen plain, all around her a battle ensues. Blue eyes, thousands of blue eyes light up the night._

_Her view changes, and now she is rushing across the earth, a giant direwolf is racing past dead corpses and over blood soaked ground. Above her she hears the call of an eagle soaring overhead and she realizes that she had been seeing through its eyes._

_She looked down at her mount, only to see that it had been expertly armored around it's chest with glass shards inlaid into the steel plate along with a headpiece that protected its neck and face from the enemy._

_All around her, she could hear the sound of running and she turned to see an army of direwolves racing toward the enemy that smelled of cold and corruption and wrongness. It wasn't winter, only death._

_Winter was sweet, and sharp, like the kiss of steel. This though, was something else entirely._

_The wind blew, causing the freshly fallen snow to pick up and fly all about, making it hard to see the scene that was unfolding on the other side of the curtain made of snow._

_She heard a deafening roar, and immediately the scene changed once more. Again, she was somewhere far above the battle, only now she could see large black towers reaching for the heavens and red leaves that looked like hands grasping at the sky._

_Harrenhal…_

_The dead poured over the earth like waves crashing against the shore. In the center of it all she saw him. Flaming sword in hand, fighting beside a dark haired girl who wielded Valyrian steel. For a moment, she thought she had been looking at herself and maybe Ned too, but then she saw that his features were not her brothers, they were softer somehow, more elegant, ethereal even..._

_Another loud roar shook her from her thoughts causing her to look toward the sound and that is when she saw them… Dragons, more dragons than she had ever read about, their numbers far exceeding the highest number Westeros had ever seen before the Dance or at any other given point in time, each of them bore their own rider mounted upon it's back, and every time a jet of flame erupted from it's maw thousands of dead fell, never to rise again._

_Her eyes traveled back to the dark haired boy and the girl who had looked so much like her and suddenly she knew… this was her boy._

_A dragon the color of opal etched with veins of onyx swoops in and lights up the ever approaching enemy. Mounted atop the beast was a girl with hair the color of silver blowing behind her in long waves, she was followed up by another dragon, the largest one she had ever seen… and somehow she understood that this was Rhaegar._

_“Once by the mind, once by the body, once by fire, once by ice,” the words whispered through her mind..._

_The vision changes once more and now she stands inside the grounds of Winterfell, inside what appears to be the Broken Tower, only where the roof had once collapsed inward, it now stood anew._

_Beside her, Rhaegar stood with his hand in her own, listening intently to the voices that were drifting down from the room above them._

_“Where are we?” he questions._

_“Winterfell, this is, or was, the Broken Tower. Look…” she pointed toward the stones that made up the upper two thirds of the tower and then toward a new set that had clearly been used in it's reconstruction._

_“When I left Winterfell with my brothers, this tower had been a ruin, and has been this way well over a century. There is no way that we are witnessing the current timeline.” she confided to him._

_Rhaegar raised a questioning eyebrow, “Any idea who's up there?”_

_Her palms were sweaty and her heartbeat was racing. Of course she didn't know who was up there, but she had a damn good idea. Rather than voice all of that, she pulled him upward, traversing the restored stairs that lead to the upper floor._

_As they neared the top of the steps, she could tell that there were multiple voices coming from within, none of them too grown by the sound of them._

_With a tentative hand, her husband reached out and pushed gently on the semi-closed door, opening the room so that they could see who was within._

_They both stopped dead in their tracks the moment that their eyes landed on the group. There were an assortment of children, some just under the age of majority, while others were clearly old enough to be considered grown._

_In the center of the room was the same boy and girl that appeared to be her mirror image whom she had seen fighting side by side on the battlefield. Beside them both another girl, a silver Valyrian beauty. The three were almost one, and each of them held the other’s hand._

_“Viserys,” Rhaegar had started forward, having recognized the eldest boy in the room. Her mind was reeling, trying to absorb everything she was witnessing. There were so many of them, all clearly kin to one another if their conversation was any indication._

_“Hush Aegon, you know mother and father won't approve of this, you can't just go flying off on the back of Indovaryx with Arya and Dany in tow.” she chastised the dark haired boy._

_Apparently this was a conversation that they had been having for quite some time. Her dark prince let out a frustrated sigh. “Visenya, we need more aid, we need more riders. They won't like it, but we cannot fight this war if we are not at our full strength. Mother and Father will be upset, but they will understand.”_

_This time it was her who made to move further into the room, but Rhaegar pulled her back. “I don't think we are meant to interact, my love. This is for observation.” he explained, but she had no idea what they should be learning about this situation._

_“I don't understand,” she confessed, but Rhaegar must have expected her response because he pulled her close to him bringing his mouth close to her ear as he explained in a hushed tone._

_“This is the next generation… Look, that is Viserys.” he pointed to a silver boy standing across the room beside a window. “Those two,” he pointed to the dark haired boy and the girl with silver hair beside him, “those two are ours, the one beside him with the dark hair is clearly kin to you, she is an exact copy of you, if this is any indication of future events, she is married to our son, look at the three of them—,”_

_“I saw them in battle, fighting side by side, she is his ice…” she heard herself whisper aloud and she could feel him smile against her ear, but he continued to explain all the same._

_“Over there, the silver haired girl with the silver eyes,” he pointed, “Visenya,” he murmured her name reverently, “She is ours too, though knowing me, she is clearly our boy’s twin. You can see it in the shape of her face. She is all you just like him, only with my coloring.” Nothing but pride could be heard in his voice._

_“What about the others?” there were at least ten of them all together, sitting around holding a council meeting of sorts._

_“I do not know,” he was clearly as confused as she was._

_“They look like my mother, but I can't see how this would be possible. Yet they can't all be ours.”_

_Just then a dark haired boy with lilac eyes spoke up. He looked like her brother Bran but with softer features, but he spoke with a northern brogue. “Viserys, I can take care of mother, father and the Queen, if you can distract the King to give Aegon enough time to slip out. If they take the larger dragons they can be there and back within a week.” the boy stated but he earned a scathing glare from the girl that was called Visenya, which somehow Lyanna found endearing._

_She knew that look well enough, she had perfected it herself..._

_“Gods Aeleric, do you even hear yourself? If my mother and father found out that the three of them flew off without so much as a word, nothing would be able to stop them from flying off to find them and bring them back. We have to be smarter, we can not just fly off on a whim, we have to stick together, all of us. We are a pack, Aegon. Go and talk to them, mother and father will understand why you want to do this, but don't go lone wolves on us. Having the power to act means nothing if when you do act, you act foolishly.” Visenya counseled._

_“Well, she clearly didn't get that cool temperament from you.” Rhaegar teased, which inspired Lyanna to jab her elbow into his side._

_“Shut up,” she pouted, though she couldn't deny the truth in his words._

_Before she could say anything else however, she heard the call of the eagle that she had flown within the last dream, and once again she was flying. This time over the open water, over a ship that was sailing east, toward an island in the distance. She heard the eagle call once more, though she wasn't sure what or whom it was calling too_ _but no response came._

She jolted awake to the swaying and rocking of the ship they had commandeered for their journey to Dragonstone. She was still being held in the circle of her lovers embrace but her mind was still trying to process everything that she had just seen.

_What was that?_

She quickly sat up and pushed herself from their bed, wanting to write everything down that she could remember.

 Rhaegar stirred beside her… “Lya? Is aught amiss?”

 She nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. “Nay, all is well, I just wanted to write down this dream I had.” she told him, only now realizing that she had shared at least a portion of said dream with him.

 “You remember too, don't you?” She wasn't ready to lose the images of those children that would one day be hers.

 _And his too..!_ The less selfish version of herself chastised.

 Rhaegar sat up and took her hand, pulling her so that she was sitting between his legs. She could see tears spilling from his eyes and she wasn't sure what made him thus. “Hey, whatever is the matter? Did you see something I didn't?”

 He shook his head, “Nay, I saw exactly the same as you,” he replied.

“Then explain why I see tears?”

 He placed a palm on her cheek, locking his eyes with her own. “I assure you, my love, they are tears of joy. I didn't dare hope to see a day when my line was restored. Yet there they all were, there were so many of them. And that one boy, Aeleric, did you hear him? _I can distract Mother and Father and the Queen…_ He’s my brother.”

 Lyanna found herself turning slightly so that she could see him face to face. “He has my brother’s face, how?” she asked, not really understanding, but Rhaegar had no answer. They spoke at length about those shared moments and Lyanna managed to get as many details written down including the battle which Rhaegar did not seem to have shared with her.

 Eventually, they both dressed and made their way above deck to see how much longer the voyage would be. The winds had been kind to them and they were making good time.

 Lyanna suspected Howland had something to do with that, he was easily one of the best people to travel with.

 It was still rather early and the captain said that they should arrive by midday, so she and Rhaegar excused themselves and went back below the ship to rest until they arrived.

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 Just after midday they made anchor just off the shore of Dragonstone. The afternoon was clear, and the sun hung high up in the sky. The port was busy, farmers and fishermen going about their daily tasks and in the distance Rhaegar could see the towns that had sprung up under the Dragonmont steadily growing.

 He had taken to ruling Dragonstone with gusto the moment he had come into his majority. He had every intention to make the island thrive and he wanted to make sure that the island could support itself without the aid of the crown.

 Slowly but surely things began to improve, the fishing trade was doing much better now that the white raven announcing spring had come, and the improvements he had made to the docks and the port were starting to pay off as well.

 The salt farms that he had invested in were right now the primary source of revenue, as Dragonstone was only a week by ship to Braavos, and a touch further to Pentos, exporting salt had been the easiest way to open up more trade routes and establish Dragonstone as a place where trade was growing.

 As such the economy on Dragonstone had also bounced back, more so than at any other time in recent history that he could recall. Which is how he was able to afford the prize purse for the tourney at Harrenhal.

 Most of the revenue that he had managed to accrue was being kept within the vaults of the Iron Bank in Braavos for safety, should anything happen that would require him to flee with his family.

 He had no intention of leaving them in a position where they would be left to the mercy of a stranger in a strange place or in an even stranger land. He had even begun scouting property in Essos that he could purchase as a safety measure.

 They had been greeted at the docks by the household guard, maester Gillyen and the current steward that had been left in charge of Dragonstone while they had been away.

 A carriage had been brought down for Elia and two additional mounts for Lyanna and Eddard.

 By all accounts, the island had ran itself for the most part. There had been no issues with trade and the seas had been rather well behaved which met shipments on time, both incoming and outgoing. There had been a few messages that were delivered to his solar from his uncle and Lyanna’s father chiefly among the many others that awaited his attention. And Archmaester Marwyn had expressed interest in speaking with him at his earliest convenience.

 All would have to wait, he wanted nothing more than to settle into his chambers with his wife and his little dragonling and the rest of his extended family for a bit of relaxation.

 They had been constantly moving for near on two moons since they had left the island for the tourney, and when they weren’t traveling, they were putting on false airs for the benefit of curious eyes. More than anything, he just wanted to provide those closest to him an opportunity to breathe without having to worry about who was watching.

 Lyanna rode beside her brother as they made their way up the mountain leading to the castle. There was a slight breeze coming off the Blackwater that would pull at her curls every now and again and he found that he couldn't take his eyes off of her for very long. Too afraid that he would miss something important, something she said or did, that he would miss a smile, or her laughing with wild abandon the way only she could.

 Ever since their shared dream the previous night, he had felt a fierce need to keep her close, to safeguard her and their future legacy from any and all potential threats. But more than anything, he wanted to lock them both away in their chambers to ensure that the future they had seen together would become reality.

 When they arrived at the castle, he quickly dismounted and went to help Lyanna from her mount, while Arthur and Ned aided Ashara and Elia. Rhaenys on the other hand waited patiently for him to come and retrieve her from the wheelhouse.

 She watched Lyanna with fascination, and it was almost impossible for him not to find joy in how well they got on with one another. And with how tired Elia had been since they began their return trip, he couldn't be more grateful to Lyanna for taking it upon herself to get to know Rhaenys and keep her distracted.

 The moment he was within range, Rhaenys launched herself into his arms, covering his face in kisses, making him chuckle. “How’s my little dragon?” He asked with a smile.

 “Papa, are we home?” She asked instead. The musical tones of her voice were alive with barely contained excitement.

 “We are, little one. I was going to show Lyanna around, would you like to help?” He shot Elia a questioning look, wanting to make sure she was fine with it, and she nodded her assent.

 “Yes! Can we bring Balerion?” Rhaenys responded excitedly, she could hardly contain her exuberance, and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the thought of Rhaenys’ cat escorting him around the castle.

 Luckily, he had been saved by Elia. “Rhaenys, my darling could you let Balerion stay to keep me company while you show Lyanna around?” She said it in a way that would make their daughter think she was doing her mother a favor. Their little girl would do just about anything to make her mother smile, so he knew that she would accept.

“Okay mama, Balerion can stay. I will be back soon, kay?” She kissed her mother fondly, eliciting a genuine smile from Elia and then she was up and in his arms once more, calling for Lyanna to come and see her favorite places.

 They began in Aegon’s Garden, and he watched as Rhaenys pulled Lya toward all of the different types of roses that grew within the small sanctuary. They spent quite a bit of time there as it turned out, because upon seeing them all, Lyanna settled Rhaenys into her lap and began telling her about her favorite roses, and of the crown that he had given her. All while creating a smaller version with white and crimson colored roses just for Rhaenys.

 After the gardens, he showed her the Great Hall, that had been shaped like a dragon lying on its belly. Lyanna’s eyes went wide as she crossed the threshold through its mouth, no doubt having never witnessed Valyrian architecture before.

 “This is the first Keep I've visited that has gargoyles adorning the battlements and crenellations, aside from Winterfell. Why do you think that is?” She asked noncommittally.

 He thought about it, but he had never thought much about the uniqueness of the holdfast in comparison to other castles aside from the obvious being that this one was built through magic rather than by a stonemason.

 “In truth, I wasn’t aware that Winterfell had gargoyles, I find this most interesting if I’m being honest. In Valyria, they were used frequently along with basilisks, wyverns, manticores, griffins, hellhounds and cocktrices. Many believe that gargoyles ward off evil, or keep magic contained.” Aside from some light reading, he had never really considered their significance before. Yet another item for him to add to his ever growing list of things he would need to look into.

 On the way to the room of the Painted Table, they ran into Arthur who had been sent in search of Rhaenys by her mother. Luckily, she was so enraptured with her crown of roses that she was happy to comply. She even offered to share her crown with Arthur since her “ _papa knocked him off his horse the last time they played together,_ ” which earned a laugh from both himself and Lyanna.

* * *

**The Green-eyed Lioness**

* * *

  Cersei walked into her father’s solar, to find her Uncle Kevan, her Aunt Genna and her Lord Father discussing the events of the tourney. Before they had departed for the tourney her father had pulled her aside and promised her that things would start changing after she returned and that she needed to be ready to step up and take her place as Queen.

 By the look on her father's face, she could tell that he wasn’t as certain now as he once had been . For all intents and purposes, her father looked as if he was about to explode in rage.

 “I would speak to my daughter,” Lord Tywin dismissed both her Uncle and Aunt. Once they were alone, he wheeled around to glare at her before speaking, “Tell me, how is it that I sent you to the tourney to keep the princes attention, yet some northern whore managed to not only be crowned Queen of Love and Beauty but also manage to earn a shaky sort of favor with the King?” His words held no kindness in them, only disdain.

 She thought about protesting at his insinuation that she hadn’t tried, she wanted to rage right back at him. But the prince had made it quite clear that he did not want her. Not that she had cared about his interest in her, though it would have made her task much easier. She would still do as she was commanded by her father, even if that meant finding another way to earn the princes affections. She didn't need his heart, she only needed his seed and a way to convince him that she could give him more heirs, strong silver haired babes with emerald and indigo eyes. The truth was she only needed him for his seed and his crown. Elia and her runt would be no issue, her father wouldn’t suffer another Queen, and no doubt Elia and her whelps would meet some tragic end or another.

 The only problem with it all is that the Prince was likely back on Dragonstone and her father would not send her to court without a good cause.

 Then there was the words of the woods witch to consider… _‘Will I marry the prince?’... ‘You will marry the King,’_

 Cersei found herself reflecting back to the words the Prince had spoken to her that night back at Harrenhal.

_“Even if such a day came and my father allowed it, he would still never allow you to sit beside me. . . Even if I did bed you and somehow I manage to put a babe in you, my father would never allow it to be born and he wouldn’t suffer your presence in court after the fact unless he was feeling particularly generous, in which case he may even consider taking you as his personal bedwarmer…”_

_‘Will I marry the Prince? . . You will marry the King...’_

 She shivered, that can't be what the witch meant. She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had blanked out her father speaking to her.

 “I’m sorry father, I didn't hear?” She muttered noncommittally. Her father didn't bother repeating himself and she was quickly swept up in another moment at the tourney.

_“Unfortunately for you, you’ve thrown yourself at the wrong dragon, for I do not look at you and see what my father sees. . . It was the King who appreciated your Lady Mothers charms...”_

 “Robert is our best bet now…” she thought she heard her father say, in a tone that suggested he hadn’t intended to be overheard. She couldn't help but flush at the mention of Robert Baratheon, nor the look of confusion as to how he fit into the equation.

 The truth was, she had been trying to forget the pig after that night following the feast. She had avoided him like the plague. Sure he was the perfect symbol of masculinity and no one could deny that he was attractive. But none of that meant anything the moment he crawled on top of her smelling of sweat and ale, hardly able to perform his task and called her Lyanna as he climaxed onto her thighs.

 The truth was, she had wanted him to be her twin and she couldn't care less about that savage northern cunt in truth, but for him to be fantasizing about that little bony girl with no proper training over her; she who was considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the Seven Kingdoms; she who had been dubbed _‘The Light of the West’_ , while she was naked underneath him filled her with endless rage.

 If only she and Jaime had been born Targaryens, then they could have been together and damn all who tried to keep them apart.

_We came into the world together, we were made for one another._

Suddenly she could not stop herself from asking the question that had been burning in her mind. “Father, I did everything you asked of me, but the King watched me carefully, he suspects that you are still trying to thwart his choice to reject your proposal. The prince though,” she paused a moment, knowing that once she unloaded everything there would be no going back.

 “The Prince?” Her father pushed.

 “The Prince implied that I would have better luck with the King, as he was the one who enjoyed my mothers charms.” She couldn't stop the words from coming, and so she relayed the entirety of their ‘ _chat’_ while her father listened in stony silence, the fury burned behind his emerald eyes. When she was done, he said nothing to confirm or deny the Princes claims, instead he orders her from his study.

 As she made her way from his solar, she cant help but to wonder what it is her father won't tell her.

 What she doesn't know is that the Lion of Lannister has officially started plotting his revenge against the dragon. He would not be mocked, not by anyone. The Reynes and the Tarbecks were proof of how far he was willing to go to teach a lesson to those who mocked the Lion. And now that the Dragon has officially offended the Stag, Robert would be easy enough to court. Unofficially, the days of the dragon were now numbered.

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 When they finally reached the top of the Stone Drum, he decided to hang back and allow Lyanna to go in alone. He knew that this was yet again something that she had only seen in her mind's eye and he wanted to give her a moment alone to take it all in.

 She was standing in front of Aegon’s high seat when he finally entered, her hands trailing over the raised surface of the carved table. “This is. . . No wonder.” She breathed out in amazement. He couldn't stop the smile that was tugging at his lips. For a moment he imagined what it would have been like for her had she been alive at the time of Conquest, he couldn't help but wonder how easily it would have gone for Aegon and his sister-wives, had she been there on the trident the day Torrhen treated with them. Lyanna may not be a dragonlord, but she was born with the spirit of a conqueror all the same.

 Instead of voicing this though, he went with the first thought that came to his mind. “One day, this seat will belong to our son and he will sit there, in the place of his namesake and he will do what the conqueror set out to do almost three hundred years ago. He will unify Westeros in a way that it has never been before. And when the time comes, we will fight and win the only battle that truly matters.”

 Lyanna said nothing, choosing to continue her tour of the Painted Table, she was currently  in Dorne.

 “This is all surreal to me Rhaegar.” She commented finally but he knew that she had more to say, so he waited patiently for her to finish.

  “Almost two moons ago, I was at home with my brothers and my father, stressing about being forced to marry a man I loathed and didn't choose. A man who would take me so far away from home that I feared I would never see it again. And now,” she paused breathing in deeply before she continued.

 “And now, here we are in a castle that I’ve only ever read about, married and discussing our future children and what kind of deeds he will accomplish. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. How did we get from there to here so quickly?”

 He crossed the room in an instant, pulling her into his arms. “Hey, what is it my love? Do you have regrets?” He hated how desperate he felt, how desperate he sounded at the thought that she would wish to leave him and return to Winterfell. He wasn’t sure how he could survive knowing she yet breathed air, but did not desire to remain at his side. Especially knowing that she would be his only choice until the end of his days. He would sooner sacrifice a limb than he would his Winter Queen.

 Lyanna must have noticed his inner turmoil because she pressed her lips to his own in the most tender of ways. “I could never regret you, or us, or this. I just never expected to enjoy being a wife, I most certainly never believed I would be the Princess of Dragonstone, or that one day I would have a son named Aegon who would be the heir to the Iron Throne. But above all, I never in my wildest dreams imagined you. And had it been anyone else, I would have never even considered the idea.”

 He couldn't stop the breath that escaped his lungs the moment her words sunk in, nor the pride he felt the moment they were spoken aloud, especially because he knew them to be true.

 He had been doing a kind of delicate dance around her ever since the first day she had refused the bond, and subconsciously he had continued to wonder if she would wake up one day and decide she had made a mistake. Hearing her now was like a balm to his soul.

 “Would you like to continue your conquest of Westeros, or do you desire to explore any other parts of the castle?” He teased, rather than drag on the topic that had him on edge since the moment she said she would be his.

 Lyanna looked up, mischief clearly written in her expression and he almost believed that she meant to talk him into some sort of debauchery, but she surprised him yet again.  

 “I would very much like to continue with my exploration, however, your Queen is hungry and craving a bath and a bed. Can we pick this up later on?” He hadn’t noticed before, but with those words, he could suddenly see the dark circles that were forming under her beautiful grey-silver eyes.

_How had he missed this? He had slept beside her every night, how had she not managed to not get enough rest?_

 “Come, I shall have a meal brought to our chambers.” He said, taking her by the hand.

 But Lyanna stopped, clearly confused. “Our chambers?”

 “Unless you would prefer to have your own. I just assumed that you and I would sleep together as we have.” He returned.

 “Nay, I would not like my own rooms, I only assumed that you would like to keep your space to yourself. I was raised thinking that a Lady would keep her own chambers and the only time I would share a bed with my husband would be when he had needs or when we were trying for a babe.” She responded, a light shade of pink coloring her cheeks.

 He almost burst out in laughter right there. Sure it was like that for most women and men, it had even been that way for Elia and himself, but neither he nor Elia had ever been remotely as attached to each other as he was to Lyanna.

 He hadn’t once considered what it would be like to hold Elia in his arms every night as they slept or, what it would be like to wake up to the sight of her face every morning for the rest of their lives as he had the moment he met his she-wolf.

 “Lya, I promise you that my love for you is absolute. I do not wish to spend one moment that isn’t necessary, away from you. I never wish to see a morrow where I will wake without you beside me, nor a night where your body is not pressed against my own as we find rest. It never occurred to me to request chambers be prepared for you, because I do not see you as my duty, or a broodmare. However, I will have  the rooms across from mine prepared for you anyway. Not because I want you to use them, but because you may have a want for your own space apart from me at some point.” He finished and Lyanna nodded her acceptance and rewarded him with a kiss.

 “Thank you,” was all she said.

When they finally arrived to his rooms, he quickly sent for something to eat and requested hot water for her to bathe. Once that was taken care of, he turned to Lyanna and asked the question that had been burning through his mind. “Are you not sleeping well?”

 She turned to him, a look of confusion on her face, clearly caught off guard by his question. “Are you kidding? I sleep like the dead every night, or is there another man who looks like my husband sleeping beside me who can corroborate my story?”

 He knew she was jesting, but this didn’t answer his question. “You know that there is not. Indulge me a moment if you would.”

 She acquiesced with a nod, “Go on.”

 “You’ve got dark circles forming under your eyes. We napped earlier and yet you are still tired. I’m just concerned for you.” He explained.

 “I see, however, I don't think this is a reason for concern. There have been many changes as of late and we’ve been on the move for almost a moon turn, not to mention that I’ve never before been aboard a ship, let alone traveled on one. I’m sure that this is just a symptom of all these things combined and my body telling me to rest and recover.” Her tone left no room for further discussion, so he dared not press her further. Even if he had intended to, that option was quickly closed off to him upon the arrival of the servants who had brought hot water and a tray of cheese, dried fruit and bread as well as some nuts for her to pick at until a proper meal could be prepared.

 As soon as the door to their chambers was closed, leaving the two of them alone, Lyanna began pulling at the laces of her riding dress. “You’ve no idea how much I want to take a proper bath.” She confessed aloud, though he was sure she was just stating her desire rather than speaking directly to him.

 “I can give you some privacy if you would prefer.” It was a lie, he had no intention of leaving, not unless she commanded him to.

 She turned back to him and he could tell that he had said the wrong thing because the look that she wore was a mixture between hurt and uncertainty and his heart sank.

_What was with him? Was he destined to ruin even this?_

 He quickly rushed to her side, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just. . . I don't know what to do in this situation. You’re exhausted, you’re here and,” he raked a hand through his hair, trying not to release his frustration onto her. “I just want you to be happy. I don't want to crowd you. I—,”

 Lyanna silenced him with her mouth upon his. “It's fine. I think we are both a bit tired from everything. And make no mistake, you do make me happy. So, so very happy.” she promised him between kisses.

 Before he knew it, his hands were instinctually traveling up her back, to finish untying the laces that she had already began to loosen, while at the same time her hands were deftly untying the laces of his undertunic and then his breeches.

 Once they were both divested of their clothing, he lifted Lyanna up and carried her toward the large bath that was big enough for them both and he lowered himself into the tub with her still in his arms.

 The water was as hot as it could be without causing pain, just the way he liked it. Surprisingly, Lyanna didn't complain in the least, so he relaxed back and pulled her so that she was straddling his hips.

 Her beautiful dusky pink nipples were on display before him, and he desperately wanted to pull one between his lips but he reminded himself that he was here for her, not himself. Instead he reached for the soap and began to work it into a lather so that he could care for her in every possible way.

 Lyanna’s eyes were fixed on his every movement, but she said nothing, and made no move to stop him.

 He ran his hands over her body, starting at her back, he rubbed circles into her skin, massaging her shoulders, and her hips and then they roamed over the expanse of her waist, then the curve of her arse. He lingered there a moment, kneading the flesh and earning him a breathy moan. Once he had finished with her back, he moved to the flat panes of her stomach, traveling upward until both breasts were in the palms of his hands.

 She moaned as his thumb brushed over her hardened peaks and she pushed her breasts into his hands a bit more and rocked against his hardening length.

 He wanted to take her but he decided to wait, he would see to her needs first. His hands continued their journey, only stopping to gather more soap into his palms before he lifted her so that her ass was above the water and her core was bared to him. His hands moved of their own volition, first around her hips and then back over the globes of her toned ass, again he kneaded at her flesh while he continued to care for her, sliding a hand between her thighs so that he could clean every inch of her.

 When his fingers brushed between her folds, she bucked her hips against them, earning her a chuckle from him. “I thought you were tired,” he husked.

 “That’s different,” she panted, obviously not wanting him to stop.

 “Turn around.” He commanded.

 If she had wanted to argue, the look in is eyes silenced her. Instead, she stood so that she could readjust her position, before she lowered herself back into his lap, trapping his erection between them.

 His hands found her hips and he pulled her back against him, as Lyanna braced her hands on either side of the tub for balance.

 Once she was settled, he gathered her hair into his hands, and he began running his fingers through her dark tresses, combing through any tangles before reaching for the soap once more. He started by massaging her scalp before moving the product down to the ends, which earned him another moan of contentment.

 “Oh, Rhaegar,” she purred, “do you have any idea how magical this feels?”

 He chose silence over words, rather he hummed his understanding, and only stopped once it was time to rinse the soap from her hair. When she came back to him, he applied some oil to her ends and massaged it through her hair, earning yet another breathy moan.

 “Relax, let me take care of your needs.” He husked into her ear, pulling her back so she lay flush against his chest.

 Lyanna needed no convincing he found, her body was all too happy to comply. He began by kissing her gently between her neck and shoulder, his hands sliding around to caress her beautiful flesh; her stomach, her thighs and then finally her breasts.

 Her dusky peaks were already hard from just the simplest of touches, and every time the pad of his thumb grazed over one, Lyanna would moan aloud and arch into his touch as if she were being electrified.

 “Does this please you?” He murmured into her ear before pulling the lobe between his teeth, just so.

 “Yes, please. . .” She choked out.

 “Please what? Tell me what you need from me.” He knew what she needed, but he wanted to hear her say it all the same.

 “Don’t stop, whatever you do, do not stop.” She pleaded through her panting.

  _Clever girl…_ Trust that she would get around his order by giving a general reply.

 He allowed his hands to continue their journey over her flesh, massaging her thighs and her hips as they came into contact. Her body was languid against his own and had it not been for the breathy moans that escaped her every time his hands brushed over her sensitive places, he would have thought her to be asleep.

 When he finally let his hands travel between her thighs, Lyanna arched up into him and opened herself up to his explorations. They were finally getting somewhere… “Is this what you want?”

 She nodded but he would have none of that. “Say it, tell me how to take care of you, tell me what feels good.”

 After a moment, Lyanna spoke. “I want you to touch me between my thighs. I ache for you.” She finished but rather than leave things to chance she merged one of her hands with one of his and she guided him to her center.

 He could have imagined it, but her body temperature had changed. Bath water aside, even at night in the comfort of their bed he felt as if he were laying beside a furnace, and that's saying a lot considering the fact that he was typically the most comfortable in warmer climates, boiling hot water was nothing to him and the fire had never burned…

 When his fingers brushed against her core, Lyanna bucked up against his hand, closing any distance that he had tried to maintain in order to make her tell him about her desires. Her free hand reached up and cupped the back of his neck, anchoring her to him.

 Instinctively he slid his free hand around her torso and cupped one of her breasts. She hissed at the contact but made no request for him to stop, so he asked... “Is this what you want?”

 Rather than speak she responded by rocking her core against his fingers. Every time he brushed against her nub she dug her nails into his neck which inspired him to take her to the bed once they were done.

 He would not have her like this and he would not be done attending to her needs any time soon by the look of her.

 He could feel the slickness of her sex, even though they were submerged beneath the water and it only encouraged him to finish so that he could take her to the bed. Seizing the opportunity, he slid one elegant finger into her wet heat while paying special attention to her sensitive bundle of nerves.

 Her legs began to quiver as he stroked her slick petals and when he teased that special place just inside her sex she joined by rocking her hips to meet him.

 He peppered her shoulders and neck with kisses and love bites, occasionally stopping to nibble on her earlobe. Her ass continued to rock against his length and he almost lost himself there and then.

 He knew that he would have to end this soon, lest this bath be wasted…

 Adding another finger, he drove back inside her core, paying special attention to her movements and teasing every spot that had earned him a moan from her.

 Not before long, he felt her muscles begin to clench and her body begin to jerk uncontrollably and he knew that she had found her pleasure.

 Once her body had stilled some, he turned her so that she could lay her head against his chest. Her skin was flushed, her chest heaving yet there was only want shining back at him through her eyes, and he knew that she was far from finished.

 “Come, let us move to the bed,” he suggested.

 Lyanna stood, water dripping down her body and for a moment he was struck dumb at the sight of her. Though still just under six-and-ten name days, she possessed the body of a woman. Long legs and thick muscled thighs, from all her many years of riding. Her arse was firm, yet round, her waist slim but her hips were wide.

 Even though she could not be accused of being particularly busty, he found that her breasts were perfectly to his liking, neither too big nor too small. Though looking at her now, Lyanna’s figure had definitely changed over the many weeks that they had been man and wife, filling out in some places more than others. Her breasts were more full, her nipples a shade darker... her scent had changed some too... he found her intoxicating to be around.

 It took all of his willpower to not pull her to him and devour her where she stood. Instead, he lifted himself from the tub and swept her up in his arms and he carried her toward their bed and placed her upon it.

 “Gods, you are so beautiful,” he found himself confessing. Still not quite sure how he had been so lucky to have been promised such a treasure. He had intended to care for her, bathe her, feed her and see that she got some rest but the look she gave him told him that sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.

 Gone was his Northern Queen and in her place was a hungry she-wolf. He felt the flames rise in his own blood and he began to stalk toward her, intent on claiming every inch of her flesh.

 Lyanna had other ideas in mind however, as progress was quickly halted by a foot on his chest.

 “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She was challenging him, he knew.

 His inner dragon roared in response. “I mean to show you,” he snarled. He grasped her ankle intent in the completion of his task only to have her push back against him, reinforcing the distance.

 “Oh no, no, no. Use your words, tell me what you want,” she teased, using his own tactics against him.

 He didn't even have to think about his answer. “You. I want you. All of you. I want to kiss every inch of your body, explore the valley between your breasts, the curve of your ass, the sweetness between your thighs. I intend to claim you and mark you and make you scream my name.” His voice was low, strained from want.

 “I want you, up on the pillows, now.” It was not a request, and for once she did not hesitate to respond.

 Turning onto her stomach, she crawled toward the top of the bed. The sight of her on her hands and knees drove him to madness in an instant. He had never taken her this way before and before he knew it, he was behind her. His hands gripping her hips stilling her movements.

 “What a glorious sight,” he husked before gliding a hand up the back of her thigh, causing her to shiver at his touch. “I’m going to taste you like this. Is that what you want?”

 Lyanna gazed back at him over her shoulder and nodded.

 His hand continued up to the small of her back, and then he pushed down, so that she was pressed against the bed. “After I’m done tasting you, I’m going to take you in this position, what do you think? Take you the way a direwolf takes his mate. Is that what you want?”

 This time she needed no prompting, “Yes, Gods yes… claim me,” she begged.

 “Good girl,” he husked before he pressed his mouth to her spine, marking her there with his mouth before he began his descent.

 Her arousal was heavenly, and he almost lost concentration. He pulled at her hips arching them off the bed so that he could see her on display before him. Her folds were already swollen from the climax he gave her moments before, and her sweet cunt called him in. He spread her open, and ran a knuckle across her sex before he dipped down and kissed her swollen lips.

 Lyanna’s response was instantaneous, as she pushed back against his face, seeking the penetration of his tongue. Instead he slid a finger into her heat, and he teased her clit with his tongue and teeth, sucking on her and making her mumble nonsensical words aloud.

 He wanted her, but he would wait until she told him she was ready. This was the game after all, and he could feast on her for as long as it took to make her come undone beneath him.

 It didn't take long before he felt the familiar sensation of her impending climax, and she made no attempt at masking her pleasure as she cried out against the pillow.

 “Mmmm, that's right, let it go...” He murmured to her before he added a second finger to bring her to her climax.

 “Oh, Gods, Rhaegar. . .” She started to cry, but he already knew what she was going to say. He pushed her flat and sucked her cunt into his mouth the moment that he began to feel her release, drinking her up and savoring every bit of her.

 When she had stilled he climbed up her body and captured her lips with his own, letting her taste herself on him.

 “Are you ready?” He questioned.

 “Please,” she begged. Which pleased him beyond belief.

 He spread her legs apart, with one knee and he pulled her back , positioning his cock against her wet heat. His cock was throbbing from all the waiting, but he couldn't care.

Once she was in position, he thrust into her not taking time to make sure she was ready. That wasn’t a part of the game at any rate. When he was finally buried inside her, she cried out loudly which made him pause.

 “Would you like a moment?”

 “Don’t you dare,” Lyanna growled and again his inner dragon roared.

 He gripped her hair and pulled her so that her back was flush to his chest, both on their knees. He placed one hand at the base of her throat, and the other slid down her body to her hips. Once she was anchored, he began to push inside her once more.

 Every time he retreated, she met him upon his return, thrust for thrust and the feeling of her ass smacking back against his hips drove him into a frenzy causing him to bite down on her shoulder and that only served to push him on.

 There was nothing shy in the way she moved, she knew what she liked and she never failed to tell him when he brought her pleasure.

 He was close, and so was she so he pushed her back toward the bed and pulled her so that they were laying on their side,and he pulled one leg over his hip, hooking his hand around her torso as he continued to thrust inside of her.

 “Rhaegar, I’m close.” She called to him. But he already knew, so he allowed his free hand to find her nub and he pinched it between his fingers as he pushed into her again and again and again.

 When she finally found her climax, he followed right behind her, spilling his seed deep within her womb.

 They stayed like that for a time, bodies joined together, simply catching their breath and marveling in the afterglow of their coupling. They spoke of trivial things instead of the normal destiny driven discussions they often found themselves taking part in.

 He told her about the time he had snuck out of the nursery in the middle of the night at the age of four. How no one could find him and how his mother had his father ring the bells in alarm. When he heard them he went in search of answers only to find out that he was the cause for all the panic.

 It had been midday by the time he emerged from the library having fell asleep in one of the many alcoves in the section containing Valyrian scripture. From that night on, he had a guard outside his chamber and was not allowed to leave his chambers unescorted no matter the time of day.

 Lyanna laughed about his antics and teased him for being an awful child. “I daresay if our children are anything like their father my job will be much easier than my Lord father's was with me.”

 In return, Lyanna told him about how she used to steal Benjen’s clothes and sneak off to train with bow and sword. Until the day her father discovered them both in the Godswood training, and he thought Ben was being bested by one of the household children, only to discover that it was his one and only daughter.

 That is when she told him she had no intention of being a lady, and threatened to run off to be a wildling… eventually their conversation dwindled off and they drifted off shortly after, Lyanna was nestled against his side, with only a sheet to cover them.

 He wasn’t sure how long they stayed abed but when he finally woke up, the sun was already starting to set. Lyanna, as it turned out, had already woken before him. He found her walking around the room, inspecting the many books, scrolls and trinkets that he had managed to accumulate over the years, among other things.

 “Did you sleep well?” He questioned, startling her out of her quiet concentration.

 “Aye, I feel much better. Thank you.” She responded, turning to face him. The dark spots under her eyes were still there, but they weren’t nearly as pronounced.

 She had obviously taken the time to nibble at the food that had been brought for her, which pleased him immeasurably.

 “I was hoping that we could have a proper meal with everyone now that we are finally home. Is this something you’re interested in doing? We can always put it off for another day or so if you’d rather stay in our chambers.”

 Lyanna moved back to the bed and sat beside him. She still hadn’t dressed, but she managed to find one of his shirts and she was wearing it now. He couldn't deny the appeal of what seeing her in his clothing did for him.

 “I’m okay either way, though perhaps we could check in with everyone else before we make decisions. I would be more interested in knowing how Elia is feeling.”

 She was right, of course, he was so used to making all the decisions without anyone to contradict him or his reasoning, that it hadn’t occurred to him that not everyone would feel up to a formal meal in the great hall.

 “Fair point, I will make sure to check in with everyone before I make plans. What would you like to do with the rest of our evening?”

 She brought a finger to her chin, making a show of it. “Well, if you must know, there is a place in Aegon’s garden that is calling to me. And I would very much like to see the rest of the castle, though I’m sure we won't get to do half of it tonight,” she paused, “since the sun is setting, I think I'll take care of the seedlings. If there are things you need to take care of, I can have Howland assist me.”

 Truthfully, he had intended to put off all business until the morrow, but he supposed that he could check in with Archmaester Marwyn as well as Elia and Arthur.

 “I didn't have plans to depart company with you tonight, and I certainly don't mind helping you with the Weirwood. In fact, I almost prefer that we plant it together, especially here in our home. I know that this is your task, but there is this feeling, every time I help you, everytime we sing them to rooting, that tells me that it's right for me to be helping you . Like the song is stronger when we sing it together. But—,”

 “It makes sense and I would love to have your help.” Lya interrupted before he could carry on. “What other tasks do you have need of doing?”

 “Well, there are some scrolls waiting in my solar and I thought I could check in with the Archmaester and then possibly Elia too.” Lyanna cringed at the mention of Marwyn and he understood why, even though he knew from experience that not all maesters serve their own agendas.

 He couldn't say as much in regards to Marwyn, but he has certainly proven himself more trustworthy than her father's own maester Walys. Regardless of that, he couldn't have her refusing the care of a maester should she find herself with child in the near future.

 They eventually decided to take care of the things that they could inside the castle first. So after dressing, they made their way to his solar and sent for the archmaester.

 Once they arrived, he found a chair and pulled it around to sit beside his own so that they both were sitting behind his desk when Marwyn entered.

 As promised, there were a great many scrolls neatly placed in a dish on his desk and as badly as he had wanted to read through them, he decided to wait until he had more time.

 It didn't take much time at all for Marwyn to answer his summons. He arrived garbed in his classic grey maesters robe, his chain hung over his shoulders.

 “Your Grace, I trust you had a safe trip.” He greeted before taking note of Lyanna. “My Lady,” he dipped his head in respect.

 “Your Grace,” Rhaegar corrected, “not ‘My Lady’ Archmaester, might I introduce you to my wife, the Lady Lyanna of House Stark, and my mate.”

 As suspected, Marwyns eyes went wide at this revelation and his hands quickly reached into the sleeves of his robes for a piece of parchment and a quill so that he could document what he was learning.

 ”Would their Grace’s mind if I asked some questions and take some notes to add to the already documented cases?”

 At the very least he was pleased that Marwyn had the decency to ask permission… “I see no problem with that, as long as you also understand that while you may be permitted to ask the questions, There will be no guarantee that they will all be answered. We reserve the right to decide what we share and what we don't…” he turned his gaze toward Lya, “Are these terms acceptable to you?”

 She was clearly not comfortable with having their situation on record before the Citadel, but she put on a brave face and replied to his question all the same.

 “That should be fine, you should answer, and if I feel the need to add anything I will.”

 So they found themselves locked away in his solar for the better part of an hour answering basic questions that ranged from; _when they completed their bond? How they looked before completion? If there were any noteworthy effects from the mark, either incomplete or complete?_ This one they chose not to answer. They did admit to the sensation that alerted them of one another’s proximity.

 Marwyn made note of the date that they bonded, but also that it was not the same date that they exchanged vows. Rhaegar provided written documentation from the Septon that resided in Harrenhal who had officiated their ceremony, and Marwyn promised that he would send an official record to the Citadel for documenting once they were comfortable releasing the information to the realm.

 They did not share that it had been Lyanna who triggered the marks, nor that Ned and Ashara also shared a bond. They left out any mention of the World Tree, the gates and of course they omitted any mention of their shared prophetic dreams as well as any mention of his silver dragon.

 Through it all, Lyanna watched Marwyn with cautious eyes and said no more than was absolutely necessary. For Marwyn’s part, he seemed to have understood to tread carefully. While he himself had been more forthcoming with the Archmaester when he first requested his assistance with the marks, too much had happened in the time since his mark appeared that he now found himself sympathetic toward Lyanna’s position.

 Unfortunately, he was left with a dilemma in regards to his impending journey to Winterfell, as he had fully considered using the Dragon Gate to bring them back to the Isle to access the Winter Gate. This means that they would have to sail as originally intended. So he would have to take care of everything as quickly as possible.

 

* * *

**The She-wolf**

* * *

 After all was said and done she and Rhaegar made their way toward Elia’s chambers to check in with her and plan for a meal where they could all dine as a combined household.

 Elia was in the process of reading a story to Rhaenys when they entered, so they made their visit brief and went in search of Howland, whom they found already waiting on them in the gardens. The sight of him brought a smile to her face.

 “I was just looking for you.” She informed the crannogman as they approached.

 Howland had stayed, for the most part, away from everyone as soon as they had reached King’s Landing, preferring to not interact with people whom he could not relate to. However, now that they were on Dragonstone she could not stop herself from hoping that he would be  present more often.

 Howland returned her smile, “I had a feeling you would.”

 “Indeed, I was hoping that you would be willing to help me bless the ground here before I plant this seedling.” The truth was, Dragonstone had never had a weirwood that she was aware of and she wasn’t sure if the seedling could even thrive on the island. Regardless of the fact that she could feel the call, she wanted to give this little seedling as best a shot as possible.

 “I had anticipated this and so I did some tracking,” Howland gestured toward the outer wall of the garden where some hares had been snared but were still alive.

  _Poor guys..,_ even at home, she only offered sacrifice on certain occasions, like when the seasons changed, but this place was important, mayhaps the most important location they have come across thus far, being that a Dragon gate was hidden somewhere on this island, and one day this seat would pass to their son. There would be no way that any children of hers would grow up without the presence of their gods to watch over them.

 “Very well, should we begin?” She asked, looking toward Howland and then Rhaegar who both nodded and motioned for her to lead the way.

 The gardens were large and filled with all sorts of flowers and smelled of pine. The trees were not nearly as dense as they had been back at Winterfell but she could feel the pull here just as clearly as she had in every location they’d planted a seedling.

 After they walked for about ten minutes or so, Lyanna found herself in a small clearing within the heart of the forest. Though she was only planting one seed, the ground called to her in a way that almost felt desperate, as if this land had long been reserved for this specific purpose but had been denied.

 Both Howland and Rhaegar joined her when she knelt and began digging into the earth with both hands. They dug deeper this time, making sure that this seedling would have every opportunity to root itself deeply into the earth. She started the song the moment she cleared the first mound of soil.

 Only when she went for the seed, Howland began a new melody, one that was known only to his people.

 They followed the same procedure as they had every time they sang the seeds into rooting, giving of themselves once the earth covered the seed, pushing her ice and his fire into their intent. But when Howland brought over the rabbits and dug a trench around the area surrounding the seed, he added a new prayer. As they spread the entrails around the area and their blood drenched the earth. She felt the magic of the children take hold where it never had before.

  “ _Bind this land of fire and bless this earth with Iron and Bronze. Bind this earth to ice and bless this land with blood.”_ Howland translated for them.

They all sat there for a bit until they felt the magic begin to settle and then they gathered their belongings and made their way back to the castle.

 By now the moon was high in the sky and had taken its place as the ruler of the heavens. “Your Graces?” Howland spoke up hesitatingly.

 She rolled her eyes at the honorific before she turned to him. “Please, just Lya, Howland.” She requested, yet again. “What is it?”

 He didn't seem as though anything was amiss, so she waited patiently while he formulated his approach, and eventually he found his voice. “If you can spare some time in the coming days, I would very much like to show you both something I believe you should like to see.”

 This caught her attention and Rhaegar’s as well. They had hardly been here twelve hours and to her knowledge Howland had never been this far south in all his life. Yet here he was, ready to show her husband around his own home.

 “I should like that very much,” Rhaegar replied, leaving her to respond for herself.

 “Aye, that sounds fine with me, though now that we are finally here, I was hoping to spend more time with you in general. There are a great many things that I’m sure we will be looking into now that we’ve all arrived.”

 Howland agreed and they parted ways once they reached the hall that lead him toward his own chambers.

 The following day, they woke early and bathed together once more before Rhaegar went in search of Oswell and Arthur. Rhaegar had made plans to assemble the household and make formal introductions.

 They agreed that she had about an hour or so before they would all be prepared so she would have time to explore her new chambers, which also happened to be the chambers that once belonged to Queen Visenya.

 The rational part of her brain told her that many queens and princesses had likely occupied the chambers at some point in the time since Queen Visenya and Vhagar took up residence on Dragonstone, but the fangirl in her could not separate the almost three-hundred years that had passed since the time of conquest, from that exact moment in time.

 The rooms, like most of Dragonstone favored dark decor. A large four-poster canopy bed etched with dragons into the wood, with thick black and red  curtains that tied to each post. The cover was crimson with a three-headed dragon embroidered into the satin in silver and black thread, was positioned in the center of the chamber. The same design from the exterior of the castle carried through to the interior of the castle as well, while this chamber featured more Dragon, Wyvern and Basilisk influence.

The wall sconces were designed in the shape of dragon claws, the braziers resembled gaping maws, which was both frightening and awe inspiring at the same time. She would have never thought that such dark imagery could also be considered beautiful, but here in the home of dragonlords too innumerable to count, she couldn't deny, anything less than this would take away from the overall splendor. She found the castle oddly stunning, and a bit sad… like Winterfell which only served to endear her to the place even more.

 There were a great many books lining the walls of these chambers, most written in High Valyrian. And while she had a rough understanding of the language from her lessons, she in no way could be accused of being fluent in the dialect. No doubt she could convince Rhaegar to teach her once things settled down some.

 She had no delusions about the gate being within the room, she felt no pull, nothing that reminded her of their first time on the Isle of Faces but surely there were secrets hidden within. She just would have to come back later on to give a more detailed search. Perhaps once she gained a better understanding of what she might be seeking.

 Upon exiting her new rooms, she found Ned waiting on her. Apparently he had come in search of her which suited her just fine, as she had been missing him as of late.

 “Neddie! Whatever are you doing here?” She chided him gently. The truth was, he had shocked her more than anything.

 Her brother had the grace to blush at her inquiry before he responded. “Apologies, I wanted to check in with you for some one on one. I feel like it has been ages since you and I had a moment to ourselves.”

 She could see that her question had upset him, which was the opposite of what she’d intended. “Oh Ned, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to suggest that you’re unwelcome, I was merely surprised to see you, that is all.” She explained.

 Gods, when had she and Ned lost the ability to communicate without words? She crossed the small space between them in an instant and let Ned pull her into his arms.

 “I love you big brother.” She could only hope that her words were the right ones in that moment.

 Ned quickly let her off the hook. “Hush, little one. I love you too, all is well.” His words were a comfort to her, which she found absurd. And she couldn't help but chuckle when she considered that he was doing for her, what she had intended to do for him.

 “I was just heading to the Great Hall to meet the household staff, and after that I had plans to visit Rhaegar’s solar where there are some scrolls that arrived while we were away, would you care to join me?”

 Ned’s eyes took on a mischievous glint, reminding her of a time from before he had been sent away to foster in the Eyrie. “Are you kidding? What else would I do that would be half as amusing as watching my sister pretend to be a proper Lady-Princess-Queen?” She could slap him for those words but long gone were the days when she could deny her place in society, instead, she threaded her arm through his and replied with her own brand of sarcasm.

 “Very well, make yourself useful and show your Queen to the Great Hall.” Ned gave a full throated laugh to her command and graciously lead her toward her new reality.

 The castle itself was smaller in scale than that of Winterfell, so it garrisoned far fewer swords and archers than she would have liked. Something that didn't sit well with her in truth. The castle was surrounded on all sides by the Blackwater and with no dragons to act as a natural defense, Lyanna felt like this would need to be addressed, and more sooner than later.

 The defense of her home was never something she had to worry about back in Winterfell. With the inner wall standing at over a hundred feet high, and a moat between the eighty foot outer wall, Winterfell was next to impossible to lay siege to, and for those who do manage to breach the outer wall, their success would be short lived against the spears stones and arrows raining down from the inner wall.

 But if Dragonstone were to come under siege, all it would take would be for the garrison to sell them out and her life, along with those residing within the castle would be at risk. They would have no way to properly defend themselves.

 This she would not have, nor would her father so she and Rhaegar would need to sit with Arthur and Oswell and figure out a way to rectify this.

 Aside from that, the household staff welcomed her kindly and to her surprise they showed no confusion about her being the new Lady of Dragonstone. Though, she would have to make sure that no one treated Elia any different than they had before all of this madness with the marks.

 She made plans with maester Gillyen to sit and go over the accounts, to make herself more aware of the way Dragonstone functioned, as well as to see if there was anything she could do to improve the functionality of the keep.

 She was no stranger to the running of a household and growing up in a land that prides itself on frugality, she was certain that there were a number of policies that she could implement here that could greatly improve productivity.

 After they had finished with introductions, she and Ned joined Arthur, Oswell and Rhaegar in his study to go over the raven scrolls that had been waiting for them. There were quite a few as it would seem. One from Jon Connington that had arrived just today, and one from the Wall addressed to Rhaegar, which she assumed was from his uncle Aemon. Lyanna couldn't help but be curious about it's contents.

 There was a scroll addressed to her, with her father's seal and one from Dorne with the seal of House Dayne. She assumed the last was from Ash and Arthur’s brother in regards to Ned and Ashara.

 As far as she was concerned, there was no need for secrecy between their collective group, so Lyanna gathered her skirts and settled herself into a chaise and asked for Rhaegar to pass her the scrolls and she would read them aloud to the group. It made more sense to just put it all out into the universe so that they wouldn’t have to discuss it all separately later on.

 They began with the raven scroll addressed to her and Ned–, and then they followed up with the one from her father addressed to Rhaegar.

* * *

 

  My Dearest Pups,

  I feel as if it's been an age since I have looked upon your faces. Winterfell is never the same when I don't have my pups within its walls. The Godswood doesn't speak as loudly without you here to tend it Lya.

 I do hope that all is well and that your journey from Harrenhal to Dragonstone has been without incident. I would like to extend my congratulations to both the Prince and my little she-wolf, as well as my quiet-wolf and his beautiful Lady Ashara.

 Your mother always said that you were destined for greatness. She would be quite proud to know that you’ve found your way and are firmly on your path. Not to mention that you forged this path on your own, in spite of my attempts to help.

 After I received word from Brandon about all that has transpired I went to see about your theory, as I did in fact have quite a few reports of wolves moving through the Wolfs Wood.

 There really is no better way to tell you, so I'll just come out and say it. Lya, Ned, they are here! They are back and I don't understand how it is even possible. Direwolves haven’t been south of the wall in hundreds of years, and what’s more, every day their numbers seem to be growing.

 Even more so Lya, I believe that it is you who have somehow summoned them to us. I have so much to share, but most importantly, I do believe that there is someone here waiting for you.

 Lyanna, I won't pretend to understand why you decided that you couldn't confide in me about your mark, but had you done so, we could have avoided this issue with Robert all together. As it is, I fear that he will not let this go quietly and I've no idea what the next step should be in this matter.

 As of now, maester Walys still remains under guard in the cells, and I've made arrangements for Maester Aemon to come from the Wall to assist me in figuring out what to do about him.

 Jon Arryn writes, he has many questions in regards to the King’s decree and where my support lies. I shall wait to reply until we are all able to speak.

 Brandon wrote, he and Benjen have arrived safely to Riverrun without incident and Benjen is on his way North as I write, accompanied by the GreatJon. He is expected to arrive before you get here.

 Preparations are underway in anticipation of your arrival, and please extend my love and affection to Ned and his bride, in the event that he is not there beside you as you read this.

 Don’t take too long in coming home my little wolf, the North misses you, and you’ve much to do when you get here.

 With All My Love,

Lord Rickard of House Stark,

Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

* * *

 

 My Prince,

 Let me be the first to congratulate you and my daughter. I wish I could have been present to represent you both during such an important moment, and if it is not too much, I hope you would consent to renewing your vows once you and my Lya make your way North.

 I trust that Brandon has relayed my position in regards to your personal endeavors. You can trust that House Stark will always remain loyal to a King who remains faithful to his people.

 There are many matters here in Winterfell that require your immediate counsel, namely my investigation into our maester. For this reason I have sent a request to the Lord Commander at Castle Black for Aemon Targaryen to travel here so that he might assist us while we wade through this mess that we’ve uncovered. I am afraid the matter is much larger than Lyanna and Robert.

 There has been word from the Eyrie as well, Jon Arryn asks after the betrothal and how everything got so confused, he also asks of my position with Lya being summoned to be Princess Elia’s Lady in Waiting.

 Which raises some questions of my own in regards to the Princess that I wish to discuss with you. I do hope that you understand the concern I feel considering your current public image.

 Lyanna is my only daughter and she is essential to the pack. I trust that you will keep her safe and guard her well.

 If I may impart some advice. . . Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the greater good. Even if those sacrifices feel like they go against who you think you truly are. The gods chose you for my Lyanna and for whatever reason, she for you. Remember this in the coming weeks and months and guard her well. For she is my most precious possession, and I will bring winter upon anyone who means to do her harm, including those who are negligent in her safety.

 Winterfell is preparing for your arrival and should you have need of me, the path for communication is secure.

  Your Ever Loyal Servant,

Lord Rickard of House Stark,

Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North.

* * *

  She and Ned both chuckled at her father's subtle threat but she could tell that the news of Robert and Jon Arryn didn't sit well with the four of them. While they let the conversation take on a life of its own, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering back to her father's words in regards to the Direwolves. ‘ _There was someone in Winterfell who was waiting on her…’_ and suddenly she was stir crazy and all she wanted was to go home, to go north.

 Outside, she heard a loud piercing screech and she knew that it was the call of the eagle she had dreamt of. Everyone turned to the window the moment she heard it, halting whatever conversation had been taking place. So she stood and placed the scrolls back on the desk and made her way toward the open window to see what all the fuss was about.

 High above the castle she could see its shape, her shape. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but of this she was certain.

 Behind her, Rhaegar broke the seal of another scroll and she listened while he read the contents of the raven he’d received from Jon Connington in regard to the king's state since their departure.

 So far the King had maintained a relative sort of calm in her absence and she hoped that the seedlings had something to do with it, though she understood that eventually her lingering magic would die out. She found herself hoping that the Queen and little Viserys would fare better, and with any luck she could visit them again soon.

 She turned away from the window and the presence in the back of her mind, hoping that her friend didn't stray too far from the island before she had a chance to properly explore this new thread.

 Rhaegar was holding the scroll that had been sent from his uncle Aemon, so she took her seat and bid him please continue.

* * *

 

  Rhaegar,

 It gladdens my heart to receive word from you again so soon. This is quite an auspicious time for us you see, as I've also received word from distant kin beyond the wall.

 My boy, I’m not sure how much your guide has revealed to you, but Brynden Rivers still lives and he was blessed by the Gods of Valyria as well as the Nameless Gods of the North with sight that can rival Daenys the Dreamer.

 If you already know all of this then please disregard, however you should know that he has been keeping an eye on all of us for his entire life.

 He has many things that he desires you to know and it is his wish that I share these things with you.

 Dear boy, you asked after dragons known not to have perished during the Dance, of which there were three; The Cannibal, Sheepsteeler, and finally Silverwing, the mount of the Good Queen Alysanne.

 As for the first, the Cannibal was never claimed by a dragonlord. He had become so hostile that no one dared try after a dozen fatalities. The last time he had been seen was on Dragonstone during the Dance, but no one knows what became of him. Whether he abandoned Dragonstone altogether or was killed, none know. He was old though, some say he had arrived long before our own House became the Lords of Dragonstone. Some of the people claim that he had resided on Dragonstone at least one hundred and fourteen years before Aegon conquered the Seven Kingdoms. One thing that is agreed upon by many is that he was the largest of the three wild dragons that resided on the island.

 As for Sheepsteeler, he was said to have been hatched when the Old King was still young and the Cannibal was older still. He had been claimed only once, by a suspected dragonseed, ‘Nettles’, after she earned his trust through feeding. The last time either of them had been seen was during the Dance of Dragons. They were rumored to have flown east, toward the Mountains of the Moon. There are even rumors that she settled with the Hill Tribes, but none have heard nor seen a dragon in Westeros in over a century.

 As for Silverwing, her last known location is well known. After Vermithor was killed she remained by his side, hoping that he would take flight and they could fly away, but he had been fatally injured during his fight between Seasmoke and Tessarion. Afterwards, during the reign of Aegon III she became wild and eventually made her lair on Red Lake in the northwestern part of the Reach. No one has seen her in the years since, and she is presumed gone along with the other two.

 Based on your description, I believe you are seeking Silverwing, as it is unlikely the Cannibal would be reaching out for a rider when he had never accepted one before.

 There is more. . . Lord Brynden has also sent word that you have managed to activate a gate and that there is one on Dragonstone that you will need to locate.

 Unfortunately, no one since the Doom has ever been within the vault that houses said gate, so you will be on your own while you search for it. However he suggests that you begin in the Lords Chambers or even Visenya’s chambers as she was the most likely to study the arcane arts. Though there is no way to properly explain where you should begin, or how you will gain access. I do suspect that your guide will be of more use to you in this situation and I suspect that you will feel a call to it now that you’ve completed your bond.

 I’m sure that this goes without saying, my boy, but be very careful with who you allow into the Vault. While I’m glad for the assistance that Archmaester Marwyn is able to provide, he is still chained and sworn to the Citadel and some things are best left undiscovered by them. Use caution from here on out in anything that involves the Gates or the Vault, whether it be related to Dragonstone or Winterfell. Remember that they have been covering up that which cannot be explained for as long as they have existed.

 There are a few things within the vault that Lord Brynden wants you to locate. The first is a map of the Targaryen Holdings in Old Valyria, pre-Doom. He would also like you to use a current map of Essos to see why the Older one is so important. It involves the Fire Gate’s location in Old Valyria. There are secrets locked within the chamber that have long since been forgotten, so do not rush through it in haste.

 I understand that congratulations are in order for both you and the Lady Lyanna. I couldn't be more pleased that you were able to find her so quickly. The Pact of Ice and Fire should have been honored long ago, though we would not be where we are now if things had played out differently.

 Destiny will happen whether we are actively working toward it or not. I bid you to remember this in the weeks and months to come, as I know all too well what chasing prophecy can do to a young mind.

 To think, Silverwing, after all these many years. Should you find her, I should like to make her acquaintance very much. I may be an old man, but I am still a dragon.

 I wish you well and should you have need of me in the future, I will be here. I look forward to your journey North, Lord Rickard has already sent a request for me to journey to Winterfell to aid him in a sensitive matter. I depart in two days time and I expect I shall see you there. Until then, be well and take care of your mate and your young one. And please, give my love to my darling Rhaella and Viserys.

 Until I see you again, know that you are loved and are ever in my thoughts.

 With all my Love,Aemon,

Maester of the Citadel,

Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch.

* * *

  She was speechless–, Silverwing? How had she not put that one together? And then there was the question of what to do with this bit of information now that they had it. They can't very well halt everything they were doing in favor of a trip through the Reach. And, if this she-dragon was truly there, how were they expected to go about keeping her hidden?

 She was once again roused from her thoughts by the voice of one of her companions. “As much as I hate to admit this, your uncle Aemon has a point in regards to the Archmaester. He cannot see the vault or the gates. If you insist on keeping him around, let it be for things that he can easily research, that won't find their way back into the clutches of the Citadel.” Arthur supplied, and she couldn't agree more. In fact, she was certain that there was something he could look into for her that would only be found within the archives of some maesters journal.

 “I actually like that idea and I believe I have just the task to keep him busy. If I’m correct, you had every intention to bring him with us to Winterfell, and I can see why you would want to. It just so happens that there are some rumors that I think we can have him look into for us that would tie him up for a bit while we search for the vault and the gate.” She told them, hoping that they would be interested in what she had to say.

 Her boys didn't disappoint, so she quickly explained. “There are some claims that when Jacaerys Velaryon flew to Winterfell his dragon Vermax laid a clutch of dragon eggs in the crypts close to the walls of the hot springs. While I am sure that there has been no maester within the crypts to verify this, I would like to know how much information the citadel has on the subject. If he can provide further information on this matter, I think we would all be a bit more grateful for his efforts.”

 “There’s something more I believe we can add to this inquiry…” Rhaegar announced, though she could tell that he wasn’t as confident in his decision.

 “Do tell?” She prodded.

 “I think that there may have already been a union between our kin, and ironically I think it was between Jace and someone who looked much like you during the time of the Targaryen civil war. Cregan had no trueborn sisters that I’m aware of, but she was a Stark, possibly natural born, and the truth is not a truth that was recorded here on Dragonstone.”

 “Perhaps these eggs aren’t really eggs at all, perhaps they were babes?” Lyanna voiced her thoughts aloud, though her resolve had hardened in that moment to task Marwyn with unearthing whatever truths he could find while they were still here on the island.

 Once they had finished with the ravens, Lyanna and Rhaegar departed company with her brother  and Ser Arthur while Oswell escorted them back toward the library.

  She took the opportunity to mention her concerns with the size of the garrison, and she informed them both that she would be open to ideas from both of them on ways that they can improve this.

 She knew that they didn't have much time before they all gathered for their meal, but now that she’d seen Visenya’s chambers, she was certain that the vault was located within the library. There was no other logical place within the walls of the Keep.

 “I dreamt about this…” Rhaegar announced as they neared the library. This was news to her, they typically discuss all of their dreams.

 Setting that thought aside, she focused on what was most important. “And, what did you see?” She questioned, as Oswell opened the heavy Ironwood doors that led into the library chamber.

 She felt the hum of magic immediately, though she found it odd that she hadn’t felt it until after the doors had been pushed open.

 She turned to close them herself, wanting to get a closer look at them, but there were no spells or glyphs that had been carved into the wood, at least not insofar as she could see. Only the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen etched into the deep blue-black of the ironwood. The same type of wood that the gates of Winterfell were made from; the same wood that the doors guarding the crypts had been made from. The only wood that was guarded and worked by one family in all of the North.

 This was… peculiar to say the least.

 “Well,” he hesitated, “I dreamt of the dead, and a battle in the snow, then I dreamt of a black vault, of stairs that angled downward,” he began moving around the space of the ground floor.

 Lyanna glanced toward Oswell. “Make sure this door remains closed.” She knew that they were on the verge of a major find, and she couldn’t risk them being discovered by the wrong people.

 Oswell nodded and moved to keep the entrance secure.

 “What happened next, Rhaegar?” She prompted him once more.

 “There is this statue, it was brought over from Valyria and I used to stare at it for hours when I was a boy.” He kept his gaze focused on a brazier, shaped like a dragon breathing flame  whenever it was lit, with his neck upturned toward the ceiling.

 “I need someone to light this,” Rhaegar intoned in a distracted manner. Lyanna nodded for Oswell to help him, while she watched the door.

 Once the brazier was lit, Lyanna asked once more, “And then what happened?”

 “Fire and Blood,” he looked directly at her in that moment. A request… she realized.

 Not taking a moment to think about it, she crossed the room and pulled her dagger from her belt and handed it to him. Rhaegar palmed the blade and without hesitation, he slid the sharp edge across his palm, reopening the wound from the night before, and without a second thought, he thrust his bloodied palm into the flames.

 She almost jumped at him and pulled him away from the fire but he didn't even react to the heat, which in turn made her pause long enough to survey the scene that was unfolding in front of her.

 The brazier that Rhaegar had lit began to rotate on its axis, once, twice, thrice, before sinking into the floor and then, without warning a segment of the floor began to slide inward, revealing a long dark stairwell that hadn’t been used in Gods only knew how long.

“I think we will be here a while.” She announced, the moment her senses came back to her. Rhaegar looked toward her and nodded. There was no sense in fighting it, the Gods themselves couldn’t pry him away from those stairs.

 “Oswell, would you send for Arthur, Ned and Howland, and have supper arranged to be sent here?”

 “I’ll be just outside,” Oswell hesitated, “if it’s at all possible, try to make him wait for everyone?”

 She couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her, Rhaegar was singularly focused, but Oswell and Arthur had long since been beside him through all of this. For all intents and purposes, they were both equally as invested in the things that drove their prince as he was himself.

 “I shall endeavor to temper his curiosity,” she vowed.

   They sat there in silence for a bit, just staring at each other. Occasionally his eyes would drift back toward the black stairwell, and hers would follow.

 Eventually, Rhaegar found his voice, “All of this time, it's just been here, all this time and no one has ever found it. At least not since conquest, and now, here we are looking into endless possibilities, and I can’t even go down there because you promised Oz,” he was pouting, Lyanna realized.

 “This really isn’t attractive behavior,” She teased. “You’re adorably cute, I'll give you that. But attractive… I think not. Pull yourself together, it won’t be long, and then you will have the chance to see what all the fuss is about.” She put on her father's best “Lord” voice as she poked her fun at him.

 This seemed to work, because for the first time since they entered the library, Rhaegar crossed the distance between them and wrapped his hands about her waist. “I love you.”

 Those three little words made her heart stutter every time they fell from his lips. He said them with such assurance, with such devotion. There wasn’t a question in her, not like there had been with Robert, she knew Rhaegar’s nature and she had no doubt that when he said I love you, he meant every bit of it.

* * *

**The Desert Sun**

* * *

She felt as if she hadn’t had a moment to collect her thoughts in almost two turns of the moon. It all started out as an attempt to call a Great Council but then Rhaegar’s mark appeared and with it, Lyanna Stark. Ever since, there has yet to be a single day of rest for her already weary soul.

 Her babe was growing, that much was clear. Though she almost regretted attending the tourney with how tired she’s been ever since they began their trip back south.

 Every day, it seems like there is more and more to be done. At least before the marks, it was only a singular prophecy to keep Rhaegar’s attention, now she was compromising time with Arthur for dragon gates, seed planting, ice gates and whatever else came with the presentation of Rhaegar’s _Ink Mark._

  _I should have asked Oberyn to return with us to Dragonstone…_

 There were certain things that she found she was grateful for however. For starters, Rhaegar and her had never lived as man and wife since Rhaenys had been old enough to notice the difference, therefore she hadn’t been terribly confused when they told her that her new baby brother or sister would have a different daddy than her, and when Lyanna had shown up at the Red Keep alongside the rest of their party her explanation had been quite similar to the one they had in regards to Arthur.

 The fact that their ship had been ready almost immediately, to sail them home to Dragonstone had been a blessing. So she had played up her travel sickness to keep Aerys from summoning her, knowing he would detest the idea of seeing her whilst in a ‘weakened’ state.

 Even though she hated being thought about in such a way, she would be whatever she needed to be, play whatever part she needed to play, if that meant she could avoid the Mad Dragon at any cost—even if he did seem rather tame whilst in the Lady—, Princess Lyanna’s presence. She would have to get use to calling Lyanna by her royal title. Gods only knew, it wouldn’t be easy to accomplish, especially with their marriage being a virtual secret.

 She turned to the sound of her door opening, only to find Rhaenys standing there, with her little black kitten snuggly locked in her embrace. “Mama. . .’

 She reached out to her precious girl and invited her in. “Hello my little princess, is everything alright? She must have just woken from her nap, Elia thought to herself.

 “Balerion had a bad dream,” Rhaenys pouted.

 “Ah, poor Balerion,” she had to stifle her giggle, lest her daughter think she didn't believe her. “Did he tell you what he saw?” _Highly unlikely, but what else should I ask after a confession like that?_

 Rhaenys shook her head. “He’s a kitty, mama.”

  _Of course he is…_

 “How could I have forgotten? Would you and Balerion like to stay with me for a while?” She asked while situating herself and Rhaenys on her bed.”

 “Did you enjoy spending time with Lya, Little One?” she asked her daughter.

 “Lya? Oh, she’s lots of fun.”

 “I bet she is, I like her too. Should I tell you a story?” She thought about what she could tell her daughter… “Would you like to hear about the Dragon and the Wolf?”

 “Lya’s a wolf, she told me so!” Rhaenys told her excitedly.

 “Indeed she is, and your papa is a dragon and that, my little princess is who this story is about,” her daughters enthusiasm had reached a new height that it was becoming infectious. “Would you like to hear the story?”

 “Yes, yes, yes!” Elia jumped from slight shock at Rhaenys excitement.

 “Very well, settle in and I will begin.” She promised, and waited for Rhaenys to quiet down. Once she was satisfied she began her story.

 “Once, long ago, there was a dragon prince who fell in love with a princess with blood as old as the land, he married this maid, and brought her home to the castle of his dragon kin and proclaimed her his wife, but by doing this, he was breaking a promise that his father had made on his behalf that the king believed would further unify the land. Many people begged the dragon prince to give his lady love up, but he refused them one and all.

 “I'll not give her up, not even for a crown,” this dragon prince proclaimed, and so he gave up his crown, and his seat as the heir to the throne, but in his place he brought a promise.

 “The prince that was promised shall come of the line of the dragon,” and so the king's youngest son, who had also married for love ordered his only two children to marry one another in hopes that they would give life to this promised hero.”

 “What’s a hero mama?” Rhaenys questioned.

 “A hero is someone who cares more for other people than they care for their self. A hero defends people who cannot protect them self, even if it comes at the cost of himself. Do you understand?”

 Rhaenys nodded…

 “One day, the dragon king realized that in order to save the realms, he would have to find a way to bring dragons back, so he called the maesters from the Citadel, and he set about a ritual that he believed would see his heart's desire come true.”

 “Alas, not all things are meant to be, and something went wrong which caused a huge fire to burn out of control and soon the King, his wife the Queen and his son and good-daughter along with many others were claimed by the flames.”

 “This story sounds sad, mama.”

 “Indeed it does, not all stories can be happy all of the time, though I promise you, not all is sad.” She sighed, “You see, on the other side of the palace a dragon was hatching, and he was the first coming of a promise that had been long forgotten. When the dragon hatchling became a young boy, he learned about the promise you see, and so he set out  and decided he would fulfill the promise himself.”

 “Far away, unbeknownst to the dragon prince, in a land most known for snow and ice, a Lady wolf was expecting her third wolf pup. She didn't know if it would be a boy or a girl, for in her home, she only cared that it would be born hale and hearty, strong enough to survive the winter, and so she prayed every day to her nameless tree gods until one day a blizzard came upon her while she was in the woods with her Gods. Then came the sharp pains that promised her pup was coming,”

 “Was her pup a boy or a girl pup?” Rhaenys questioned.

 Elia chuckled before she answered. “She was granted a little she-pup and they say she was born with ice in her veins, for just like the dragon prince who was born in the embrace of wildfire, the she-pup was brought forth in a blizzard that could only be calmed by this little ones first howl.”

“The mama wolf knew right away that her new pup was special, and so she taught her everything she knew about their Gods and their magics and she told her that one day she would do great things. And so the dragon prince and the she-wolf grew up separated by two kingdoms, never knowing that one day, their destinies would bring them together.”

 “During this time, the dragon prince spent all of his time reading and searching through all of the texts he could find to help him become the hero that everyone told him he would become, but after a while he came to realize that he was only one half of the promise, one part of a song that was older than the Targaryen dynasty.”

 “What’s the name of the song, does daddy know the words mama?”

 Elia smiled at her curious girl. “Its the song of Ice and Fire, my princess. You see, your daddy is the dragon prince, and Lya is the she-pup and long ago the dragon and the wolf made a promise to one another. A promise to join their blood for the good of the realm. Because they believed that a promised hero would be born to save everyone from darkness, a hero that shared the blood of the Dragon and the blood of the Wolf.”

 “So does that mean that Lya is a hero?”

 “Mayhaps, but the hero is both Ice and Fire, Little One. You see, your father came to know that he could not be the promised hero because he was only born of fire, and one night, just after you were born he had stayed up long into the darkness looking for any answer he could find that would help him in his quest. And it was then that he realized that the hero had to be both, the hero had to be Ice and Fire, do you understand?”

 She nodded, “He has to be a dragon and a wolf.”

 “Indeed, he or she has to be both. So the dragon prince, who had already been given a wife, went to her and he confessed everything he knew and his wife gave him her blessing to go and find this woman who was made to be his partner by the hands of the Gods themselves, and so he did.”

 “And that's why papa and Lya are always together!” Rhaenys announced, earning a genuine smile from her mother.

 “Yes, my darling, that is why they spend so much time together. You see, one day soon, if the Gods are merciful, Lya and your father will have babes of their own. Little winged dragon-wolves and they will belong to the crown, just like you.”

 “And the baby too…” Rhaenys exclaimed, placing her hands on Elia’s ever growing bump.

 She joined her hands with her daughters. “Well, this babe will always be a part of you, because this babe is going to be your little brother or sister, but it will not belong to the crown like you do. This baby will not be part dragon like you, this babe was made by the heavens, by the sun and the stars, but that is a different story and one I will tell another time.”

 Rhaenys looked confused, but nodded her acceptance all the same. “Listen to me Rhae, you are your father's first born, his oldest and it is your duty to protect your siblings, to be their strength when they can not defend themselves, to be their voice when they cannot speak, to be their shadow when they believe they are alone. To be their hero until they are old enough to do the same for you and even long after they are able. Do you understand? People will try to tear you apart, they will tell you how different you are from them, how you were the first born, they will try to convince you that they are a threat to you. They are not, they will be your flesh and blood and they will be your responsibility when no one else is there to protect them. These things are the only things that matter, can you remember this my little dragon?”

 Her daughter looked up at her and smiled before nodding, “I promise mama.”

 On the following day, the maester came to examine her, Arthur had a hand in this, she was sure of it. “Maester Gillyen, I am sure all is well, I’ve just been tired from all the excitement over these past few weeks. I am sure that you understand.”

 “Yes, Your Grace, but still would it not be prudent to allow the examination just to be sure?” The maester replied nervously.

 She was pretty sure Arthur had threatened him with Dawn, if his demeanor was any indication of things. “Very well, but do tell Ser Arthur in the future, should I require the attention of a maester, that I shall be the one to summon you. Should he argue this point with you, remind him that I know where he keeps Dawn while he sleeps.”

 Of course she knew that Gillyen would never repeat her words, still it felt good to let him know she did not appreciate all the fuss.

 As expected, the babe was growing steadily. Gillyen was concerned by the dizzy spells she had been randomly experiencing, though he was much pleased to see that her body had not begun to swell around the feet and the hands. He said that her lack of fluid retention was a good sign, but he was still concerned that her constitution would weaken under too much strain…

 So, much like her previous pregnancy, he recommended that she avoid more travel and limit her time out of bed.

 “How much longer do you think?” She found herself asking. They had estimated that she would deliver after the new year, and Gods willing, she would carry her babe full term this time, but with the ninth moon quickly approaching, she was suddenly nervous that she wouldn’t make it.

 “There is no way to be certain, Your Grace, but if you take it easy and you avoid travel and exertion, I see no reason that your babe can't make it until the end. And while I know that bed rest is not ideal, if you intend to survive to see this babe take its first steps, this rest is the best situation for everyone.” Maester Gillyen counseled, and after a moment he added, “You should be well enough to move about the castle for a few hours a day, no heavy lifting and no strenuous activity such as climbing the stairs of the Stone Drum over and over again.”

 She smiled kindly at the young maester, “I thank you for taking the time to see us, and you have my word that I will take it easier from here on out.”

 The maester collected his belongings and excused himself from her chambers in short time. Arthur came to see her shortly after he left, and he found her scowling at him from behind her desk. She had been in the process of writing to Oberyn.

 “In the future, if you have concerns for my health and the health of our child, I would greatly appreciate it if you would speak with me about it before running off to fetch the maester.”

 Her tone was clipped and whether or not he had done something wrong, she still felt irritation at her lover for not talking to her about his concerns first.

 “Elia,” Arthur began, but then he crossed the room and pulled up a chair so he could sit beside her.  

 “I watched you with Rhaenys for eight months. I watched from the shadows, from outside the door, from the corners, I watched as you suffered in silence. I know you.” He sighed.

 “You are unbowed, unbent and unbroken in every aspect of your life and childbearing has been no different. I love you Elia, forgive me, but I love you more than I love this babe, and I accept that, for you, this babe is everything. But for me, if I have to choose, Elia, I would choose you every time. And I do not regret it, nor will I apologize for wanting to keep you beside me in whatever capacity I can, for however long possible.”

 She knew this already, they had discussed all of this when it was discovered that she was with child, and while she loved him and was filled with joy at the thought that she fulfilled him and he her, in a way that she never felt while married to Rhaegar Targaryen, being a mother was like… like nothing she had ever known or something she could never fathom before her daughter had been placed in her arms.

 “I’m sorry for not telling you about maester Gillyen coming to see you and I promise that I will talk with you about my concerns, should they arise in the future. But I need you to promise me that you are going to talk to me.”

  “If you think I haven’t seen you suffering these last few weeks then you're mistaken. If you think that I am the only one who worries for you, then you are mistaken. If you think that I haven’t heard you talking with Rhaenys about Rhaegar and Lyanna, you are mistaken. I see, and I hear exactly what you have been doing Elia. Are you so determined to just give up?” His voice cracked from his despair, and for the first time, she could see tears in his eyes and the quiver of his jaw which told her how the Sword of the Morning was barely keeping it together.

 Sighing, she reached for him. Taking his cheek into her palm, drawing his attention back to her. “Arthur,” her heart began to thump rapidly within her chest.

 “Please, try to understand, I don't want anyone to use Rhaenys as some kind of puppet, I know better than anyone what they will try to do, should something happen to me. I want my daughter to grow up knowing only love. If I can help to transition her into a home where she knows the love of two mothers and two fathers, and she never ever feels the need to choose between the two of them, then I will know that I’ve succeeded. I don't want to leave you, Arthur. I don't want to leave any of you, but I’m not afraid of my fate either. Whether it happens in the birthing bed—,”

 Arthur made a move to interrupt but she silenced him with a look, “Or whether I die of a grand old age with you beside me,” she smiled at him. “It does no good to pretend that we are not all mortals. And perhaps myself more so than most, regardless, I won't live what life I have left cowering in fear of this eventual inevitability and neither should you.”

 “I know that you're afraid that you will loose me, I know you're scared and you will blame yourself if our babe survives at the cost of my life, but Arthur, I chose this, just as I chose you, and I have no regrets in any of it. In any of this,” she gestured between the two of them.

 “And any product that came from our love could never be a mistake, or a fault of yours, nor the fault of our babe. Promise me that you will stop torturing yourself over what may or may not come to pass, and in return, I promise that I will follow maester Gillyen’s advice, I will remain for the most part in confinement, save for a few hours a day that he has permitted me to move about. In addition I will also promise that should I feel fatigued, short of breath, dizzy, or anything else that would be cause for alarm, I will send for the maester myself. I will also remain here on Dragonstone while you travel North with His and Her Grace to meet with Lord Rickard.”

 Arthur sat there a moment, absorbing all that she had said without saying a single word. She could see the storm brewing beneath the surface, the conflict that he was silently fighting in his own mind.

 “You are a kingsguard Arthur, your place is beside Rhaegar, and you know this. In order for us to be together, we have to set the example, we have to be the proof that a kingsguard is made stronger by having his own family, not weaker by it. That your loyalty won't be divided between the vow you swore to your king, and the vow you swore to your wife. So, no matter how much you desire to stay with me, if you do so, you prove why celibacy is necessary to the vows. Be the exception Arthur, prove that a kingsguard can be loyal as well as a husband and father and protector.” She stood and moved to sit in his lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist.

 “I know,” he finally spoke. “Elia—, I,” his voice cracked. “I never thought that I would ever know what it would feel like to call you my wife, and you can call me greedy, or depraved, or desperate but when I hear you talking like you won't be here, or pretending that you are fine, when I can see that you're not. It breaks me. I love this babe, but I love you more, and who knows, perhaps I’m just speaking the words of a man who has never known the feel of holding his own child in his arms. When I said my vows, I only had you to give up and I never could. So I hope you will forgive my selfishness in this one instance. Will you promise to send word as soon as it becomes clear that your time is near? With any luck, they will locate both gates and I would be able to be here at a moments notice.”

 “You have my word, now, tell me what news from the North?” She asked, hoping to change the subject. However, before he could reply, a servant arrived to request Arthur join the Prince and Princess in the castle library.

 “I'll come with you.” She decided at once.

 Arthur turned to object she assumed, but then he reconsidered, “Very well,” he turned back to the servant who was waiting for further instruction. “Would you please get the princess Rhaenys for her mother, she will also be joining us.”

 “Yes mi’lord,” the girl, Lilly nodded, and hurried off to gather her new charge.

 When he turned around he spoke to her, “They found it.”

 “They found what?” She asked, confused. There was clearly more to the story that she knew naught of…

 “Right, forgive me… There was a raven from Aemon, there is a vault inside the castle, they believe the gate is within the chamber. When I left their Graces just a bit ago, they were heading toward the library. Princess Lyanna wanted to see it first. If they are calling me there so soon, it can only be because they found it and there is no way that Oswell would allow His Grace to go in without one of both of us present.” He explained.

 “This of course was great news, not only for House Targaryen, but because Dragonstone now has the ability to provide an escape to safety should anything happen and the island finds itself under siege. “We should hurry then.” She grabbed her cloak and lead the way to the door.

 They met Rhaenys in the hall and she excused the servant; Lilly. “Please have our meals sent to the library. We shall all dine there this evening. Have care that we shall be serving ourselves and see to it that the staff eat well and retire once your duties are seen too. We won't have need of further assistance after.”

 “Yes, Your Grace,” Lilly nodded and set off to see to her new task.

 They were joined on the way by Eddard and Ashara as well as Lord Howland Reed, who had also excused the servant that had sent for them. However, Arthur had called for three household guards to stand watch outside the library to keep out anyone curious enough to try to sneak inside.

 They met them outside the tower, and after Arthur gave them all instructions, they announced themselves to Oswell, who was standing guard on the inside. Once they were permitted inside, they found Rhaegar and Lyanna on the far side of the room standing beside a set of stairs that she’d never seen before.

 Apparently, Rhaegar thought that she would just allow the three of them to explore an unknown room unchecked? She felt herself bristle at the thought. Oh no, they had not been the only ones who had to endure this prophecy and while she may now be free of it, Lyanna was not, and there is absolutely no way that she would allow her to go through all of this on her own. . .

 Not if she had anything to say about it. . .

 She could sit here, and she could support her family.

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

 They hadn’t waited long for everyone to arrive. However, with them came Rhaenys, Ashara and Elia, who gave him a sideways look, “What? You didn't honestly believe that I would allow the five of you,” she motioned toward himself, Arthur, Oswell, his good-brother Ned, and Lord Howland,” to go searching through some hidden chamber without myself or Ashara here to help Lyanna keep all of you in line. I swear, you three specifically act like children who have just received a new toy.” She huffed.

 “In Arthur’s case, a new sword might be more apt of a reference.” Ashara intoned teasingly.

 “Ha, Ha, Ha, very funny,” Arthur quipped back, which in turn brought a chorus of laughter from everyone else.

 “Alright, alright, as funny as it is to tease them, this is just too important to joke about.” Lyanna took on the role of authority, which made him smile. She would be a wonderful Queen when her time comes, regardless of what she may think about it.

 “Seeing how none of us have been down there, I think it is best if we allow you boys to go down first. The four of us Ladies will remain up here to await the servants who are bringing our meal here to us. After that is done, we will join all of you once it has been determined to be safe down below.” She left no room for discussion and so he pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured a quick thank you before he moved back toward the stairs.

 Eddard brought a torch to light the way, but as soon as they began their descent, the sconces that lined the path lightened one by one, all on their own.

 The passage was made from the same black stone that the castle had been shaped from, but the walls depicted different images that he had never seen before. Images of dragons, and cities either rising or bowing to the might of the dragonlords, images of the heavens, and of the earth.

 When they reached the bottom, Rhaegar found himself gasping in shock. 

 The vault was completely untouched by time. There was not one speck of dust to be seen anywhere within the chamber, which he found to be three sided and far larger than even the library that was above them.

 The pillars that supported the cavernous vault were wrought in the shape of Dragons locked in a perpetual dance, the archways again resembled the gaping jaws of massive dragons.

 The Fourteen Flames of Old Valyria were etched into the walls and at the furthest side of the chamber he found what he had been looking for. The second fire gate was impressive, resembling the gate on the Isle of Faces. The ebony and weirwood merging together to create the perfect archway.

 The wall sconces all around the chamber ignited the moment both of his feet touched the stone floor. Architecturally this room made no sense to Rhaegar, it shouldn’t exist at all, if he was correct about where they were...

  But just beyond the three walls of this chamber, he could hear and feel the crash of waves that continuously assaulted the island of Dragonstone.

 Now that he was here, he had no idea what to do or where to begin, but luckily Arthur broke the silence.

“It seems like it will be a long night.”

 Rhaegar chuckled, thinking about the many nights that they had burned the midnight oil together, while he conducted his research.

 “I appreciate your dedication, truly, but I would understand if you wanted to sit this one out. I don't see a way for us to possibly comb through all of this in a single night,” he found himself confessing.

 The truth was, he wasn’t even certain they would be able to get through even a quarter of what had been locked inside this chamber within the timeframe they had agreed upon before they set sail to White Harbor.

 The room was completely decked out in Valyrian design, even the books that lined the shelves were completely written in High Valyrian.

 There were too many subjects to remember all at once, but the subjects that stuck out to him the most were written on metallurgy, architecture, spellworking and dragon lore.

 He found a prototype for a dragon harness as well as the original design that had been framed and had been hung on the wall just above it. The harness itself wasn’t nearly large enough to fit a fully grown dragon, but with the prototype here, replicating it on a larger scale shouldn’t prove too difficult.

 Once he had made a complete lap about the room he called up to Lyanna that the chamber was safe for them to enter, and then he set about looking for the things that his uncle Aemon had tasked him with locating.

 He found Ned and Lord Howland standing together, looking at what appeared to be a large horn, banded with Valyrian steel rings that had Valyrian glyphs etched into the metal that he had never seen before. He was certain that the horn had belonged to an enormous dragon once and it had been carved and decorated with a purpose.

 “My Lords,” he greeted them, pulling their attention away from the horn.

 “My Prince,” they both greeted in unison, “we were just discussing this horn,” Ned explained.

 Rhaegar found himself looking at it a moment before checking to see if there was anything nearby that could provide further insight. Unfortunately all he found were innumerable books on dragon lore, a large coiled whip and of course the Valyrian glyphs that had been carved into the rings. It actually reminded him of another horn he had heard of. A horn that at this very moment was a part of Lord Celtigar’s treasury, a horn said to have the power to summon krakens from the depths of the ocean.

 “I think this is a dragon horn, though I can't be sure of its purpose. I do believe that this horn is meant to bind a dragon to a potential rider, though my ancestors have never used one, which leaves me at a complete loss here.” This horn could mean any number of things, but right now it just made him feel nervous.

 “Would the both of you mind helping me locate this map that Lord Brynden wished for me to find?” He asked in the hope that his request would distract them long enough that they would forget the dragon horn.

 “Actually, I already know where it is My Prince.” Howland intoned, motioning toward a rather large table that was covered in odd trinkets and scrolls.

 The map itself was laying flat against the surface of the table, and for all intents and purposes, little about the known world had changed since this map had been made and this room had been created. The only real difference was the now ruined coast of what was once the greatest civilization known to man. Known now to all as Old Valyria, which on most modern maps was only a rocky outcrop of islands, just off the coast of Oros, with the only portion of Valyria that remained mostly intact also being completely uninhabitable after the Doom came to reclaim the land.

 However, this map showed something that no other map he’d ever seen before had; stamped into the leather hide of the map were forty separate sigils, one such was that of the Targaryen three-headed dragon.

 This must be it…  He thought to himself, almost giddily. Knowing the location of his family holdings in Valyria , even if he never laid eyes on what remained of them, this knowledge alone meant everything to him.

 He was drawn from his thoughts by the voice of his good-brother, “What do you think is so important about this map?” Ned asked.

 “Truthfully, I am not sure. Aemon didn't say but if this is related to the gate in any way, I would have to guess that the gate to Valyria is linked to one of these forty locations on the map. Particularly the land once occupied by my kin prior to the Doom. The bigger question, I should think, is whether or not it is safe to travel there via the gate or not.”

 Ned thought about this before he responded. “Maester Aemon also said that we need another map, one drawn up after the Doom. Do you have one on hand?”

 There were tons of maps all over the castle, but he needed one that was similar in size, it might be easier to roll this one up and bring it up to the library. Unfortunately the idea didn't sit well with him. “I'll need some parchment and a quill and some ink. I'll need to recreate this map for personal reference.” He turned toward Arthur. “Upstairs there is a barrel filled with maps, I need a copy of the known world post-Doom.”

 “Right away,” he turned to the rest of their group, “If you all would excuse me.” Arthur bowed his head and went back up the stairs to carry out his duty.

 He could not say truly how long he had remained within the chamber but eventually Lyanna had come down herself to force him to come up and dine with everyone as they had originally intended.

 He found Elia seated on a chaise beside the hearth, her color much improved today than it had been and she seemed to have more energy. Rhaenys sat beside her mother and Elia was sharing her plate with her.

 Ashara sat opposite Elia and Lyanna, the three of them were engaged in some light conversation, so he made his way over and settled himself in beside his mate.

 “Would it be alright if I join the four of you?” he asked when they had stopped talking a moment.

 “You are most welcome,” Lyanna responded, “Ashara was just telling us about a dream she had on the way here from King’s Landing.”

 He arched a brow, “Dreams are becoming a theme around here as of late. Does this dream have anything to do with your mark?”

 So far, only Lyanna and himself have had prophetic dreams, at least that he was aware of. Lyanna had mentioned once that Ned had experienced a lesser version when their marks were still new, but nothing recently.

 However, Lyanna had a dream on their way from King's Landing as well, and if Ashara’s was anything like Lyanna’s he more than wanted to know as much about it as possible.

 “I can't be certain,” Ashara confessed, “but it was unlike any dream I’ve ever had.”

 Rhaegar could not stop himself from encouraging her to tell her tale, and tell it she did. After, Arthur was the first to speak. “I don’t even know where to begin….”

 Rhaegar understood the feeling all too well, ever since the marks showed up, there has been a never ending supply of information that he was still trying to absorb and now, a secret room somewhere in Starfall, a whole history on Dawn that had been rewritten.

 “Ashara, Aedric sent word from Starfall, mostly it was a congratulations for you and Ned, but I think you're going to need to go home. If this chamber exists, it revealed itself to you for a reason. You need to go and find it, I don't think that this is something Aedric or I can do in your stead.” Arthur told her kindly.

“After we go to Winterfell, I will make plans to travel home, but not before and most definitely not before Elia gives birth. I won't leave her while she is still with child.” Ashara vowed and there was no changing her mind, not that anyone would dare try. She may not wield a sword, but even Arthur thought twice before challenging his sister once she’d made her mind up about something.

 Elia gave Ashara a thankful look but did not comment otherwise. Rhaenys however, chose that moment to speak up. “Papa, mama said you and Lya are gonna have a baby like her,”

 His eyes flew to Lyanna, whose mouth hung open in shock. Rhaegar swallowed, not wanting to jump to conclusions. Surely it was still too soon for her to be certain. “Um, Elia—, do you know something that I don't?” he questioned warily.

 Elia flushed a bit but responded calmly. “Actually, Rhae, what I said was that your father and Lya will have babies, not that they are right now,” she chuckled and plucked Rhaenys up and placed her into her lap. “I think you almost gave dear Lya and your royal father a fright.”

 “Your mother is not wrong,” Lyanna spoke up, “maybe not as soon as your mother, but eventually I hope to give your father many children and you some brothers or sisters. Is that okay though, Rhaenys?”

 The conversation sprung forth so abruptly that he wasn’t sure how to keep up, but he realized in that moment that he had done nothing to help prepare Rhaenys for what things would be like now, with Lyanna being his wife, and Elia having a babe by another man. And yet, Elia hadn’t missed a step, and all he could do is sit here like a dolt while his wife and his ex-wife discussed familial matters with his one year old daughter.

 “I told her that one day, there will be more than just her and Viserys and as the bigger dragons,” Rhaenys beamed when her mother alluded to her being a dragon, “it would be her job to look after and protect her baby brothers and sisters…”

 Rhaegar looked back to Rhaenys and held his hands out to her in invitation, “Your brothers and sisters will be the luckiest in all the realm, as long as you and Balerion and Viserys are here to protect them and teach them how to be dragons too.” He promised.

 “You mean dragon wolves daddy, that's what mama called them.” Rhaenys corrected.

 Before he secured his daughter against his hip, he grasped Elia’s hand in silent thanks. She didn't have to admit it out loud, but she had been trying to prepare their daughter for the possibility that she might not be around, and she didn't want Rhaenys to push Lyanna away.

 Though done for the right reasons, he couldn't stop the hurt that accompanied the understanding. This should be a time of celebration for her and Arthur, instead these last few weeks felt like one extended ‘last vigil’.

 “I agree, you shall be the best big sister anyone could possibly hope for. And I'll even bet that when you're big enough, you will be a warrior queen just like your namesake.” Lyanna vowed, earning a delighted giggle from Rhaenys.

 “Elia, I hope you aren’t letting your fears get to you… You are strong and you said yourself that this time was different.” He knew there was little he could say to ease this burden for her but he did not wish for her to bare it by herself either. Nor did he dare consider what losing her would do to his best friend, who for the most part wore a brave face most days, at least before Elia had taken ill after they had departed Harrenhal. Though, according to Elia, most of that “weakness” was a show to keep Aerys at bay while they were in King's Landing.

 They all ate and visited with each other a bit longer before Elia and Rhaenys and Ashara excused themselves for the evening, leaving himself and Lyanna behind with Arthur, Oswell, Ned and Howland alone in the library to finish their investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really rocked my socks... not because I wasn’t sure what to write, but because there is still so much that I need to cover. I had hoped to cover Dragonstone in a single chapter, but I realize now that had been a pipe dream. 
> 
> I just want to thank you all for waiting patiently for me to finish with this chapter.  
> It’s been a busy few weeks for me, but I have the next chapter outlined, and I just need to sit and hash it all out.  
> Thank you all so much for the continued support of this fic... I just want you to know that I am extremely humbled by the feedback you guys have left for me.
> 
> For those of you who are first time readers, thank you for making it this far! 
> 
> As always, if you have any thoughts, ideas, or questions please leave a comment below, and be sure to leave kudos if you haven’t already. 
> 
> I don’t want to promise y’all a quick update, but I will promise that it will be worth whatever wait you have to endure...


	23. Endless Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone!  
> So, in this chapter our main characters are preparing to depart Dragonstone, so I decided that I would attempt to use a new format to mark the passing of time. While I could use a Month/Day/Year format, I have decided on a Month/Week/Year format. With that in mind there will definitely be the passage time within each segment, but the date format will only reflect where that character was at the time of the start of the chapter. If time passes I will comment about it but there will be no format unless it is attached to correspondence. I know that the events of the Rebellion and the Timeline is a jumble of ambiguous assertions and for that reason, I wanted to make it easier for my readers to mark the passage of time.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoy the chapter!

###  **The She-wolf:** Mo8/ W4/ Y281AC

* * *

  That vault  was massive… There was no getting around it, and if it's been here all this time Under the very noses of the people who have lived here for the past four-hundred years or more with no one being any wiser, she could only imagine which secrets remained hidden away in Winterfell if this was any indication of how well things could be hidden in plain sight. A castle which was older than it's people, Eight thousand years if the histories are correct, a stone labyrinth that has grown larger and larger over the ages, like a giant tree made from stone that is rooted into the depth of the earth, and powered by the crypts and the Old King's and future Lords of Winter. 

  The First Keep and the Crypts are the oldest parts of the castle. Histories claim that Brandon the Builder spent most of his life building the crypts, alongside giant's and the Children who helped him weave blood and spells and weirwood into its foundation. The crypts themselves are dug deeply into the earth, and extend far outside the inner and outer ringwalls of the castle by almost four miles.

  If there’s a secret vault, or Ice Gate, then she was certain that it is located within the grounds of the First Keep or the Broken Tower. The only other alternatives to those two options would be the lower levels of the Crypts that were beyond the cave in, or somewhere within the Godswood that she had never noticed in all her years seeking sanctuary within its boundary. But she had spent quite a lot of time within the Crypts as a girl, if there were anything down there aside from her long departed ancestors, surely she would have known.

  The more she thought about it, the more she regretted not insisting that she and Rhaegar try to go through the Ice Gate that morning on the Isle. At least she would know where to begin, or already be in Winterfell in the comfort of her Lord Father's solar with a book in hand reading, while her father would tend to his duties the way they had after Brandon and Ned went off to be fostered.

  Her days had been full to bursting in the time since they had arrived and located the Vault. In the mornings she would sit with maester Gillyen going over the household and making sure they had all they needed, alongside the acting steward, Halex. A  middle aged man who had lived on the island his entire life and had kin who have served House Targaryen since they arrived before the Doom.

   After going over the books and discussing a new strategy to increase productivity and lighten the workload some, she would sometimes make her way down to the yard to watch her brother and husband spar with Sers Arthur and Oswell. She even considered broaching the subject of training some of the boys and men on the isle from the villages and the port how to fight. It would help to take care of the issue she had with the small number of garrisoned men that were expected to defend the castle should someone wish to infiltrate the island.

  While she went about her duties as the Princess and Lady of Dragonstone, Rhaegar would take that time to hold court and hear out the needs of the islands smallfolk. Afterward, they would meet in the library and discuss their day with one another.

  She mentioned the glass houses in Winterfell and she explained to him about how they often were the saving grace for her people in winter, and as Dragonstone doesn't yield much by way of grain or produce, she thought that the idea was worth mentioning to her husband. Not to mention the fact that anything the glass houses produced in excess could also be sold, which essentially ensured that they would pay for themselves in time.

  They had been on the island for about a week when Howland finally approached them and reminded them that he  had something that he had been wanting to show them. It wasn't that they had forgotten, it was just that things had been hectic since their arrival, and they were working on limited time. Rather than put it off any longer, they, along with Ned and Ashara and Ser Oswell followed Howland out of the castle and toward the Dragonmont.

  “Um, you will have to excuse my ignorance, but isn't the Dragonmont still active?” she asked, trepidation lacing her tone.

   Rhaegar turned and smiled warmly. “Indeed, though at most, it smokes from time to time. There hasn’t been an active eruption in more than three centuries.”

    _Oh great! No danger at all… were his words meant to comfort her?_

  Once their party cleared the shadow of the castle itself, the land tilted downward into an almost invisible trail, and then it leveled out again before turning sharply to the east, leading them toward the base of the huge volcano.

  Carved into the base of the mountain sat the mouth of a huge cave that blended into the bend of the mountain. She suspected that it curved downward deep into the belly of the mountain.

  Ned spoke up from just behind her. “What in the name of the Gods is this place?” she could tell he held the same reservations as she did about descending into a cave that could potentially drop them off into a pool of lava.

  “This is where the dragons made their lairs. The hatchery can't be far from here, it is also located within the Dragonmont. Although it shames me to admit that ever since the last hatchling died, no one has had much of a need to come down here.” Rhaegar turned his attention back toward Howland, “What reason do you have for bringing us?”

  If Howland was concerned by her husbands question he did not show it. Instead, he smiled and replied to the group of them, “All will be revealed in a short time, perhaps I could show you all rather than stand about talking about it?” he quipped.

  Lyanna felt her nerves pull tight at the vagueness of his words, but she put on a brave face all the same and reached for her good-sisters hand, a silent plea to her as their eyes connected. Ashara nodded her agreement and together they made the first step toward the mouth of the cave.

  Once inside, Howland lit a torch and passed it to Ned and then he lit another and he stepped to the front, leading the way into the darkness.

  “Why do I sense a story coming?” she heard Oswell call out from somewhere behind them. Lyanna had almost forgotten he was there, but she heard first Ashara and then Rhaegar chuckle and she was reminded of why she was so fond of the knight.

  “Did you know that House Whent are the distant kin to House Lothston? And that ‘Old Mad Danelle’ was a powerful skinchanger who controlled giant bats and practiced blood magic among other things…” Howland quipped back.

  Silence from Oswell followed, but then Howland spoke again. “Perhaps Ser, the reason you suspect me is because I only speak when words hold meaning and I've gathered our _marked_ together once more.” he continued, leading them away from a path that slanted further downward, instead he opted for one that leveled out some.

  “It's no secret that Your Graces have both shared dreams of morrows not yet made and that the four of you were chosen by the Gods to both bring and attain balance. Something that has long been gone from our world… It is no secret that the Targaryens as well as the Valyrian Freehold chose Dragonstone as their westernmost outpost because of the active volcano. Dragons are fire made flesh, and the histories would have us believe that Valyria was founded after dragons  were found lairing within the Fourteen Flames.”

  She wasn't sure where this was going but she listened in silence all the same…

  “The followers of R’hllor would have us believe that fire is life and light. That it is the natural enemy of darkness and yet fire creates smoke and also can cast shadows which are in their very essence a balance between light and darkness. But fire can just as easily consume as it can nurture, just as Ice can both freeze and burn in turn.” he slowed his pace and turned to the five of them who had been been hanging on to his every word at this point. She could see that the path that they were on was beginning to grow larger.

  “So, just as a volcano has the ability to give life to dragons that can thrive in it's fiery embrace, they also create a substance that many overlook and undervalue and luckily for us, Dragonstone is one of the few places in Westeros that has it in abundance,” he gestured for them to pass by him into the cavern that opened up not fifteen feet in front of them. 

  When Ned had come to stand beside her and Ashara, the light from his torch illuminated the space a few feet in front of them which revealed a metal brazier. Ned stepped forward and placed the torch on the coals and stepped back, allowing the flame to grow. She wasn't sure why, but suddenly her heart began beating heavily within her chest.

  She found herself, like the rest of her companions standing there dumbstruck for Gods only knew how long. She had no words to describe what she was seeing. She had imagined the vents and caves within the Dragonmont to be covered in soot and smelling of smoke and sulfur, but instead she found herself staring at a room that was veined with a shining rock that appeared to look black, though not all of it was the same.

  She had seen this before, in her dream from the ship. This had been forged into the armor of her direwolf, but she could not give a name to it.

  It was Rhaegar who spoke the answer of  what everyone had been wondering about. “Dragonglass…” five sets of eyes turned to meet his, including her own, prompting him to explain what he meant. Howland preferring to allow them to work as much out on their own before he filled in any blanks.

  “Some people call it frozen fire, the maesters of the Citadel call it obsidian. Either way it is both the same, volcanic rock, caused by the rapid heating and cooling of the rock within the volcano shafts. It's quite brittle and as such is best used in decoration, but otherwise it does little else.” he paused, considering something for just a moment before he added, “my uncle Aemon said that there are records that the Children of the Forest would trade Dragonglass with the Night’s Watch.” 

  Lyanna could see Rhaegar trying to work this information over in his mind but she beat him to it, having already connected the dots. “Ice and fire, both burn, one hot and the other cold. A volcano that breathes liquid fire, but can also freeze fire as well and a trade agreement with the Children or Singers,”  she inclined her head in Howlands direction to show her respect for the Singers. “for dragonglass that the Night’s Watch somehow needed… for the ‘ _shields that guard the realms of men’_...” this can kill the army of the dead… don't you see?”

  Howland smiled and nodded, “How much do you all  know about the Long Night of legend aside from their graces?”

  “I've only had a dream of blue eyed corpses trapped beneath the sea,” Ashara confessed.

  “And what Old Nan would tell us as children,” Ned added.

  “I've been beside the Prince through almost every step of this journey. I am not unaware of the Long Night, though perhaps slightly less knowledgeable than the rest of you.” Oswell finished, turning the attention of their group back to Howland.

  “There is much to learn yet about the Long Night of legend but those with the memory to tell us have long since retreated back to their ancient protective groves where no one has found them for eons, save the ones they’ve chosen. But for some, if they are lucky and have a keen eye and curious nature can find the evidence they preserved through the ages to guide us when the time comes once more.” Howland gestured for them to follow him again through the large glass filled cavern, lighting the braziers as they passed by to bring more light to the dark cave.

  It seemed to be far larger than she had first thought and she could only follow in silent awe. Ashara had long abandoned her for Ned, who had stepped away from the path a bit to look at some glass that was more of a red color than it was black. So she almost jumped when Rhaegar strolled up and took her hand in his.

  Howland led them into an antichamber, located off the main cave that was slightly more narrow than the passage they had taken into the volcano. At one point all but Howland had to crouch down a bit to get through the most narrow point, but when the space opened up once more she stood in a similar room. There was a steaming hot pool that reminded her of the hotsprings back home. She glanced to Rhaegar with excitement, had he known of the hotsprings on Dragonstone? She would have to ask him about this another time. Also she wouldn't mind having this one prepared for bathing.

  Howland continued his walk toward another small cavern, this one containing a discarded amount of  dragonglass and a crude looking workbench that had not been the product of Valyrian influence. This entire place was created long before the freehold settled here, she realized.

   All around them, were runes as old as Winterfell, she was sure. She had even seen many of them throughout her time growing up in the North. The runes of the First Men were ancient, but these runes far exceeded even those in age, and were landmarks to most, but the patterns could be found all over and recently she had been given a unique look into the past  and into the heavens.

  Her hand reached out automatically to brush over a spiral that reminded her of the sun. While her eyes roamed over the other walls of this ancient space. As soon as she saw it, her legs began moving… carrying her across the room to a series of images.

  A large object falls from the sky, and the seas rise to meet it and swallow parts of the land in its attempt. A carving of dragons fleeing North, South, East and West…

  She turns to Howland who was watching her with interest. “Would you like to share your thoughts with the rest of us, Your Grace?” he asked, and she scowled playfully at his address.

  Everyone gathered around, looking at the images that had been carved by the Children long ago. When they were all certain they had seen it all, they turned back to her and she began to explain.

  “This tells the story of the ‘Great Fall’. The moon once had a sister, and both were the wives of the sun. The legends say that one day, one of the moons traveled too close to the sun, and she cracked and a thousand thousand dragons poured forth from her womb and drank the sun’s fire. Broken, the moon fell from the heavens and fell into the sea’s embrace. This caused the waters to rise up and swallow large portions of the land.”

  “After his loss, the sun hid his face for an age, as did his sister-wife the only remaining moon. “The Maiden made of Light,” and during that time, dead things started rising. In the East, the great usurpation had begun and deep in the North, creatures of Ice began to stir.” She looked to Howland for reassurance that she was on the right path and he nodded for her to continue.

  She took another breath and went on, pointing to the various images as she went, hoping to use them in a way that helped them to understand the story better. “A hero came forth with his dog and two other companions and went in search of answers.” At this moment she was pointing to a circle that had a smaller ring inside of it and another of a smaller figure that was horned. “They found answers on the Isle of Faces, and together mankind along with the Children of the Forest conspired to come up with a way to defeat the Others. They came here together, the Children and the First Men. To fight against their common enemy.” She pointed to a figure that had been carved from the blackest rock, with bright blue gems set into its eyes and just beyond the ‘Other’  there was a carving of a dragon eating its tail carved three times—the oroborus, Lyanna realized. Three perfect circles, one interwoven into the other. Three hundred and sixty degrees, the symbol for reproduction…

  She turned her attention to Rhaegar immediately. “Tell me about  how Lightbringer was forged, the legend, tell me you know it.”

  “Aye, I know the legend. Azor Ahai labored thirty days and thirty nights and when he went to temper the blade in water it shattered. He returned to his forge and labored for fifty days and fifty nights, when his blade was complete he thrust it into the heart of a mighty lion, but once more the blade shattered. He then understood that the blade could only be tempered by something that could make it stronger, so with a heavy heart, he returned to his forge. He knew that when this task was done he would not need to return again. This time he labored for one hundred days and one hundred nights and when he was finished, he called Firth his wife, and with great sorrow he bid his wife bare her breast and he drove the blade into her heart, joining her soul and the steel as one igniting the blade. Her cry was one of anguish and ecstasy and it left a crack across the face of the only remaining moon.” He finished. 

  She felt her bottom lip pull itself up between her teeth, the way she was known to do when she was working something over in her head. 

  “What are you thinking?” Rhaegar asked, pulling her out of her reverie. 

  She felt heat creep up her neck from embarrassment. “Uh, well— we both know that this is not exactly the same tale of how Lightbringer was created… not entirely. But I can’t see a reason that the Red Priests believe Lightbringer needs to be reforged, as we both know that it was never destroyed…”

  This got the attention of everyone in the room. Her eyes searched out Ashara, who was alternating between glances at Lyanna and the series of images that they had been discussing. 

  “Oh, fine… if the first method of defeating the Others was so absolute, why then are we all standing here talking about this as if it’s coming once more?” She asked the obvious question, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. 

  She watched her companions as thru all contemplated her question. Ashara spoke before anyone else could, “Because the Sword has the ability to kill the Others but not the magic that created them.”

  Lyanna felt herself smile at her good-sister and she moved to point at the images of the Oroborus. “Three heads has the dragon… three dragons, three symbols of reproduction, three hundred and sixty degrees. Azor Ahai _‘labored’_ for thirty days plus thirty nights, and then for fifty days plus fifty nights, and finally he labored one hundred days and one hundred nights before the sword became complete. Sixty plus one hundred plus two hundred is three hundred and sixty… Lightbringer isn’t a sword, they are the three heads of the dragon.”

  She turned and made sure that everyone understood. “Rhaegar and I witnessed the journey of Azor Ahai, also known as the Last Hero and the founder of House Dayne of Starfall. We saw the journey and the fall of the moon into the waters that now make the Torrentine. We saw Nissa Nissa emerge from within the crater that was made upon the moon’s impact, and we saw her birth him a dragon a star and a wolf. All of whom went separate ways when the Long Night had ended. Between the four of us, we have reunited those three original bloodlines, Rhaegar carries the blood of both House Dayne and Targaryen, while I bring the blood of House Stark.” She pointed back at the oroborus. 

  “Do you understand now?”

* * *

###  **The Alpha Wolf: M08/ W04/ Y281AC**

* * *

  His head was beginning to hurt… never in a thousand years would he have believed anyone who would have tried to tell him Lyanna would be the source of so much trouble, at least not insofar as love matches…

  The truth was, he couldn't honestly blame Lyanna for this mess that he was now wading through. He only had himself to blame. He could have listened to Lya a long time ago, the first time she and Ben had come to him telling him of how Old Nan wasn't being permitted to tell them her old stories. He could have done more, but he’d been so focused on making proper matches for his children that would aid them in the winters to come, that he had allowed himself to be blinded to other ambitions that had been disguised as proper betrothal negotiations.

  He found himself looking at the basket of raven scrolls that he’d discovered, yet still hadn’t been able to convince himself to read through. After the first night, when he’d sent his guards to detain Walys;  he had conducted the search of his personal chambers and study himself. He still hadn’t finished before the sun started to rise the following morning. What he had found was damning enough, though he was sure there was yet more to be found.

  He had locked the chambers up after that and stationed guards outside to make sure no one entered. The conspiracy that had been taking place under his very roof was no small matter,  and if he did not invite the crown to weigh in on things, he could very well damn his own House… his own daughter, just by association.

  There was a scratch at his door that pulled him from his rumination. He stood from his chair and crossed the room to open the door. On the other side stood the huge form of the direwolf that had somehow taken a liking to him. His massive form taking up a good portion of the corridor he had been waiting in. 

   _Gods, I can't even imagine what this place will look like once Lyanna arrives and she gets to see them herself. I'll likely have to move the people to Winter Town and give Winterfell to the wolves if she has anything to say on the matter…_   he chuckled at the thought.

  As for the current beast, he had taken to calling him Blizzard, for he didn't know what else to call the thing. Surprisingly enough, the wolf seemed to respond well enough to the title, so he continued to use it over the following weeks since their arrival.

  There were of course, more direwolves than the three who had approached him the first night, but they had chosen not to intermingle. The other two came and went as they pleased, as did Blizzard. Though he would often come and sleep within the walls, and sometimes the she-wolf would join him, yet she preferred to sleep in the Godswood under the heart tree. Something about her reminded him of Lya, and that is why he was more than certain that Lyanna was the reason they had come.

  The wolf didn't bother to enter, which Rickard found odd, considering that he had scratched to enter.

“What is it boy?” he asked the wolf who had clearly come with a purpose.

  The wolf stared at him with his intense green eyes and then he turned, walking back down the passage, leading him outside and in the direction of the maesters tower and the ravenry.

  Once inside the tower, the wolf quickly raced up the stairs, past Walys now locked chambers and study and on to the upper floor where he paused. When Rickard had finally caught up, he found the she-wolf sitting in front of the door to the rookery. 

  “Is there something in there?”  he asked her, gaining her attention…

  The she-wolf stood and pawed at the door in answer to his question, so he moved forward and pulled the latch and stepped inside the ravenry. Inside, the ravens cawed loudly as he entered, but calmed immediately the moment they saw the she-wolf enter behind him.

  There was a new bird that must have arrived in the hours since he was last here that morning. He approached the bird and saw the band that identified it as one that had come from Dragonstone, so he removed the scroll that was attached to it’s leg and then he helped it into a cage and fed it some raw meat before he locked it in and turned back to the she-wolf and patted her on the head.

   “You're a clever one, aren’t you?” he glanced at the seal and saw that it had been sent from someone in the royal household. Not Eddard, so he broke the seal and quickly discovered that it had been written in Lyanna’s own hand. “Did you know it was from her?”

  The black wolf only looked at him, or through him. . . with her molten silver eyes that said _‘obviously’..._ and somehow he could hear Lyanna’s voice in his head, as if the wolf could speak with her voice.

  “Come, let us go to the Godswood,” he said to both  wolves as he closed the ravenry behind him and locked the door for good measure. 

  As they exited the maesters tower, the third wolf appeared through the Hunters Gate, quiet as can be. Though he was never truly far from the other two, Rickard found that this one was more independent from the pack than his mates. His blue-grey eyes constantly alert and scanning his surroundings. Even though he knew that this wolf and the she-wolf were younger than the one whom he had named, the male wolf reminded him of an old wary soul, kind of like his Ned.

  When they finally reached the heart tree, he settled himself down upon his favorite rock and pulled his cloak a little more tightly around himself  to ward off the cool breeze that has started up a few days prior, reminding him that winter still held dominion over the lands north of the Neck, regardless of what the Citadel declared.

   _A bunch of idiots…_ So far, nothing good has come from allowing southerners to enter their lands with the sole purpose of recording history and serving each castle. However, if Walys treachery was any standard of service, he had a mind to expel the entire institution from his territory and return his people to the Old Way.

  Alas, such a task would not be so simple as all that, and more than like could not be done without causing waves much further south, nor would the fine men who ran the Citadel allow such a thing to happen without raising a proper fuss.

  His attention went back to the raven that Lyanna had sent…

_Dearest Father,_

_I write you with good tidings. Ned and I arrived on Dragonstone almost a fortnight past and you may rest assuredly, knowing that our journey has passed without incident._  
_With any luck, we will be well on our way to White Harbor by the time this reaches you. I write with a request, one I hope that you will honor, and one I promise to explain once I arrive. I understand if you're unable to finish the task before we get there, but I was hoping that you would have the First Keep cleaned out and prepared to host Prince Rhaegar and myself as well as the rest of our party while we reside in Winterfell, both now and in the future._  
_I am sure my request must make no sense to you right now, but I promise that all will be made clear upon our arrival. For now, I need for you to trust me. The First Keep, and the Broken Tower need to be restored and repaired._  
_I love you Father, and I want you to know that I only kept my mark a secret because I didn't understand it. I had every intention of telling you, but then you announced Robert's intention, and of course I did not take the news well, and afterwards my decision to not inform you became more unintentional than anything else. But mostly because I wanted to avoid any opportunity that could encourage a discussion of Robert._  
_I hope you can forgive me and I hope that you know that I never kept any of this from you because of some trust issue. Everything I am, everything I know to be true, I know because the Gods chose you to lead our pack. I'll make it up to you, I promise._  
_Do tell Benjen that I love him and I miss him more than he can even imagine, and that I can't wait to see him once more._  
_We have already sent word to Lord Manderly in White Harbor that we will be arriving within a fortnight, from there we will sail up the White Knife and then ride for Winterfell from the Rapids. With any luck, I shall be home within a moons turn._  
_Rhaegar and I have also discussed the contents of your last message, and in regards to Lord Arryn, we both agree that it is best if you do not delay your response, though we both feel that it would be prudent to remain as brief as possible, while affirming your support of the King’s decree._  
_We shall see you all soon enough. Until then, be  well my dear father and tell my friend who awaits me that I will be there soon enough._

_With all my love,  
Your loving she-pup. _

  He sighed, missing his pups all the more… all of them, even Brandon. Though sometimes he thought that between Brandon and Lyanna he would find himself in an early grave. As of right now, his pack was spread so far apart but soon they would all be back under the same roof once more.  And far larger in number than they had been before his pups had set off four moons past for Harrenhal.

  He had sent his Lyanna, hoping that some time with Ned and Robert would help to convince the girl to accept the offer. That she would find peace with the idea of being Lady Baratheon, but somehow Lyanna had found a way to keep her word that she was a Stark and would always remain a Stark… somehow she had done just that.

  One of the perks of marrying into the crown was the retention of your House’s name, even though her children would undoubtedly be Targaryen.

  He looked over to his companions, specifically the she-wolf who was resting just beneath the reflection of the heart tree in the pool. “It would seem that your mistress wants us to prepare the First Keep and the Broken Tower, do you know anything about all this?” he asked her, simply for the pleasure of voicing his thoughts aloud.

  The she-wolf perked her ears up at the sound of his voice and swayed her tail back and forth happily, with a gentle thump here and there to affirm her pleasure. “Nothing to say?” he smiled.

   _What has this world come to?_ He was conversing with direwolves…

  They sat there in silence for a time, in quiet contemplation, more so himself, he wasn't sure what the direwolves were thinking about as they watched him with their knowing eyes. Eventually, he stood from his place and made his way from the Godswood, eventually passing through the lychyard, past the crypts, and the North Gate in the direction of the First Keep.

  Old Nan used to tell stories when he was still just a boy about a lightning bolt that had struck the Broken Tower, causing the upper third of the tower to collapse inward, rendering the tower unsafe, and ever since it had been abandoned. Eventually falling into such a state of disrepair that the only time someone entered was to chase off rats and clear nests, but other than that the tower and the First Keep sat virtually undisturbed.

  On the morrow, once the sun is up, he would go check them out and see what he could do to get them into livable condition. At least he had a bit of time to prepare before she arrives…

* * *

###  **The Stag Lord: M09/ W01/ Y281AC**

* * *

  The journey from Harrenhal to the Eyrie had passed by in what felt like the blink of an eye, though if he were being honest, he had made it a point to stay as drunk as he possibly could without losing control of his mount. That was over a fortnight ago, now he found himself sitting atop a goat, traversing the path up the mountain that lead to the seat of his foster father.

  He still wasn't sure why he had agreed to return once he’d found out Ned wasn't returning as well. He should have went back to Storms End, but Ned had suggested that he return with Jon Arryn and wait to hear from Lord Rickard before he made any major decisions, so that is what he’d done.

  For fucks sake he was furious about the whole situation… Those damn meddling dragons were determined to take everything that he has or desires… even Ned. To top it all off he hadn’t even had the chance to speak with Lyanna before he had departed with Jon as she had been under constant guard by one of her brothers or a member of the Kingsguard after Aerys had ripped her away from him.

  Ever since they had returned he had been trying to convince Jon that there was something they could do to get Lyanna back, but Jon had refused to partake in the conversation. Instead he gave his word that he had written to Lord Rickard and enquired about the matter, and what his feelings were. However, they still had yet to hear back from him as of three days ago. The delay had set him on edge, so rather than drive Jon mad with all his pacing and ranting, he made the decision to descend the Giant's Lance to the Vale and visit a tavern or two to let off some steam, that was two nights past.

  He had spent three days and two nights gloriously blacked out, but when the sun had risen on his third day, he gathered his belongings, and whatever was left of his pride and began his treck back up the Lance. He could have arrived earlier, but he had stopped in Stone to hear if there was any news and then he stayed to have a drink with the garrison before heading back up to Snow.

  By the time he reached the Eyrie, the sun was already starting to sink beyond the horizon and he knew that he would likely not be seeing Jon until the morning, so he made his way to his chambers and he called for a meal and some wine as he went. Once he got to his chamber, he thought about it some more and called for some hot water for a bath as well.

  Inside his chambers he saw that nothing was out of place, though there was already a pitcher with wine waiting for him on the table in his solar. He strode over towards his bed and he tossed his cape over the foot of it before heading over to the table and poured himself a glass of wine.

  He was just about to walk away when he noticed a scroll that had been waiting for him. Turning back, he picked up the scroll and turned it over in his hands to reveal the seal. It had been sent from Lannisport… 

   _Unexpected…._

He put down the glass that he had been holding after swallowing the contents in one gulp and then he broke the seal and scanned over the words written on the parchment.

_Lord Robert,_

   _It has come to my attention that our interests may align following the events of the Tournament of Harrenhal._  
_It would seem that the dragon believes that he can do as he pleases without impunity, and this does not bode well for the Lords of Westeros to have a King and his Heir so brazenly interfere with such matters._  
_Because of this, I do believe that we can be of assistance to one another. As you are aware, the prince intends to call another council, but this time he intends to do so on a smaller scale. I do hope you plan to attend, as I have it on good authority that Lord Rickard should be in attendance as well. This would be a good time to raise the subject of your betrothal, as the Lord can hardly refuse you in person. I do believe the Crowned Prince could be persuaded to return Lyanna Stark if you agree to lend your support unseating the Mad King._  
_Either way, I mean to have my heir back and I will not be denied, even if that means taking matters into my own hands. I would very much like to consider you an ally in this and I look forward to hearing your response with haste._  
_Careful with your foster father, he is a man of honor and will not look too kindly toward any underhandedness. Perhaps it may be for the best that you make plans to return to your seat at Storms End._  
_Whatever you decide, I shall see you soon enough. Should you need to reach me, the line through raven is secure._  
_Tywin of House Lannister,  
 Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West._

_Unexpected… and interesting… and risky._

  On the one hand, he had been considering a return to the Stormlands, but if Rickard was going to hear his petition, going south made little sense. Even a fool could see the futility in that, but he highly doubted that, that dragon cunt of a cousin was innocent  in this business with his betrothed. Nothing anyone said could convince him otherwise. He was almost certain that it was that _pretty prince_ who had whispered into the Mad King’s ear about Lyanna. For that reason, no matter what Tywin believes Robert knew that the only way he was getting Lyanna back was if Rickard refused to comply or if he went and took her back himself. Even if that meant starting a war just to have her.

  Of course that would mean finding allies. He would need to convince the Lion to side with him, under a contingency plan; in the event that the Prince refused to comply when Tywin moved to take back his son, that Lyanna would be returned to him in return for the support of the Stormlands.

  Jon would be of no use in this matter, at least not until he knew more about the matter from Lord Stark. But with the right maneuvering, they could amass a strong enough force to crush that mad bastard that they called king and maybe his son alongside him.

  There was a knock at the door, announcing the servants that he’d sent to fetch more wine, some food and hot water  for him to bathe. “Enter,” he called, standing up. He moved to put away his correspondence from the Lion Lord, allowing the servants the chance to complete their tasks. When he heard their footsteps retreating, he began to disrobe and was already naked before the door to his chambers closed and he heard the latch slide into place, indicating that once more he was by himself. 

  He poured another glass of wine before he walked over to the tub and climbed into the scalding hot water. “Fuck!” he almost dropped his wine from the shock of the heat. He stepped back out, deciding to let the temperature cool some before he attempted bathing again. Instead, he made his way over to the tray of food that they had brought for him and he settled into a chair with a newly filled glass of wine and began picking at the various foods that they had been selected for him.

  Once he was adequately satisfied that he’d eaten enough, he made his way back into the bath, and then into the bed. When he woke, the sun was high in the sky, and someone was knocking incessantly at the door to his rooms. He lay there for a moment, trying to collect himself and catch his bearings before managing to pull himself from his bed and answer his door.

  On the other side was a young girl, no more than seven and ten name days. “Sorry to ‘ave disturbed you m'lord, but Lord Jon sent for you to join him in his solar when you're decent.” The girl flushed, reminding him to take a look at himself and in doing so, realized that he went to bed the previous night without a stitch of clothing on and he hadn’t bothered wrapping any bedding around himself when he had come to answer the door.

  “Seven Hells…”  he muttered. “Apologies, please tell Lord Arryn I will join him immediately.” He dismissed the girl as soon as he could.

   Once he had secured his door behind him, he quickly located some clean breeches and tunic, and then found a fresh doublet. He ran some water over his face and through his unruly black hair, before rinsing his mouth with some lemon and mint water. After he was done, he set off in the direction of Lord Arryn’s solar.

  He found Jon seated at his desk when he entered, he appeared to be going over some documents or correspondence, and without looking up, he gestured for Robert to come in and have a seat, so he did.

  When Jon finally looked up, he smiled kindly at him before he spoke. “I trust you enjoyed yourself and with any luck feel better?”

 Honestly he didn't feel anything other than rage, and nothing he had done recently changed this. Still, he regretted that he couldn't tell Jon any of this, at least not now. Instead he lied, “Aye, I do feel a bit more  clear of mind.” Well, it wasn't entirely a lie… at least not insofar as Jon could tell.

  “That's good to hear, I've recently had a raven from Lord Rickard, which is why I sent for you. It is good that you arrived last night, else you would not have heard this fresh from the rookery.” Jon told him.

  Suddenly, Robert found himself sitting up straighter in his seat… his heart thumping loudly in his chest. “And what news from Winterfell, My Lord?” he asked hesitantly, both nervous and hopeful at the same time.

 Jon cleared his throat and took a moment to rearrange some papers that were laying on his desk before he responded. “The delay was due to their maester being ill and the ravenry suffering from his absence…”

   _Jon was stalling… what is he not saying?_

  “Terrible business, being ill. What news of Lyanna?” he cut to the chase, not wanting to endure anymore stall tactics.

  Jon looked at him exasperatedly for a moment before he continued. “Lord Stark claims that while he had  been actively considering your proposition, he maintains that he never once implied to his maester nor you that your offer had been accepted. Nevertheless, he insists that Lyanna was not to be promised to anyone before she turned six and ten. Furthermore, while he may not agree with the way King Aerys went about things, he also believes that these next months among southern Ladies will do her some good before she is shipped off to be the Lady of some Lords keep.” Jon’s tone was deadpan, no emotion. As if this were some everyday occurrence and Lyanna was serving as some Lady in Waiting in the court of a man who didn't burn men alive for his own pleasure.

   _Has everyone lost their damn minds?_

  “So he's just going to leave her there then?” he roared, jumping to his feet and forgetting himself once more.

  “Robert, sit down.” Jon did not raise his voice but he left no room for insubordination. 

  He raked a hand through his course black hair and took a seat, embarrassed from his outburst. When Jon was satisfied with his response he spoke again.

  “What Lord Stark chooses to do in regard to his daughter is his decision to make.  And short of declaring against the crown, there is little he can do about the situation. Furthermore, even if declaring against the crown does seem like an attractive option to you, the crown still holds the Lady Lyanna in their custody and your foster brother Ned too. As of right now, they are little more than hostages to Aerys, do not be so foolish  as to believe that this was all about taking the girl you wanted from you Robert.” Jon sighed heavily, something more was weighing on him…

   “Alright, I admit, I can see your point. But tell me why I still feel like there is more you're not telling me.” Regardless of the situation, he couldn't stand feeling like he was being _handled_ rather than consulted as an equal.

  “There is talk that the Prince and Princess are now on Dragonstone, but that Prince Rhaegar isn't intending to remain there for long… there is word that a ship is being prepared for travel, and that White Harbor prepares for a royal visit. Even though Lord Rickard did not mention this in his missive. I believe the prince intends to sail for White Harbor and then onward to Winterfell alongside Ned and the sister of Ser Arthur Dayne. Though, nothing can be confirmed for certain.” a million thoughts raced through his mind as he listened to Jon finish speaking.

  Betrayal… his best friend! The man he had chosen to be his brother, traded him in for a pair of pretty eyes and full tits… _‘go back to the Eyrie with Jon, wait for my  father to ride south… I’ll be returning to Riverrun to support Brandon once I’ve seen Lyanna settled…’_ Did that dragonspawn have to take everything from him?

   _Damn those bastards!!!_

  “Perhaps it is time I return to Storms End.” He spoke the words out loud before he could realize that he had even spoken.

  “I'm sorry, what?” Jon questioned back as if he hadn’t heard him speak.

  “I'm a man grown Jon, I was planning to be wed for fucks sake. Ned is gone now, and perhaps it is time I do the same, take my place as Lord Paramount, stop letting other men take care of my duties for me…” Truthfully, the idea didn't sit well with him. Why should he have to sit in judgment of grown men and women, just so they did their own duties by their leigelord? Unfortunately, the truth was, any distraction would be more welcomed than this shit existence he was struggling with at the moment.

   “Robert, of course you should do what you feel is best, but I think that you should wait.  We should be hearing the announcement for Brandon and Catelyn any time now and after the fact, we are certain to have a better idea of when Lord Stark plans to ride south. Besides, what can you do in the Stormlands that you cannot do in the Vale?” Jon asked him.

   _More than you could possibly dream of…_ His mind wandered back to the raven scroll that had been waiting on him in his solar… _I could openly plan my revenge against that mad cunt and his pathetic cunt of a son…_

* * *

###  **The Silver Prince: M09/ W01/ Y281AC**

* * *

  As they walked back to the castle, all he thought about was Lyanna’s words. 

  Lightbringer is the three heads of the Dragon… this is why they were here, this is why their children must be born, why they must survive, no matter the cost. . . He should have realized this sooner. Lyanna herself has proven to be made from the most rare type of iron… he’d known this since the first time he had laid eyes on her. Her iron, and his fire together… Lightbringers.

  He chuckled, his mother had been right this whole time about prophecies. And had Lyanna not been there to explain, perhaps he would have never put it together.

  Of one thing he was certain, Lyanna was definitely the only one alive strong enough to temper his fire, and this fact alone comforted him long after they had left the depths of the Dragonmont and went on about their individual tasks.

  Since discovering the vault, he had made quick progress creating a smaller copy of the map with the help of his wife who, as fortune would have it, had quite the talent with drawing. They had spent the majority of their days tending to their individual duties, and whenever either of them found a spare moment they would sneak away and further explore the chamber even further.

  With the days quickly passing, he knew that he had only a limited amount of time to make heads or tails of all the contents within the chamber. So for now, his focus was dragon lore and spellforged steel—long ago, his family had been the proud owners of not one, but two Valyrian steel swords. Both were gifted to the natural born sons of Aegon IV and both have been lost to their line ever since. Among their swords, there had been other Valyrian artifacts as well, the dragonbone hilted dagger that his grandfather Jaehaerys II had gifted him when he was but a babe, still too small to remember the gifting himself. There was the crown of Aegon the Conqueror, that had been lost in Dorne and there were a few things that he had found within the vault itself. But when his family had fled Valyria, the ability to forge new steel had been lost to them, and he had a funny feeling that if the answer was anywhere, it would be here.

  “Rhaegar,” Lyanna called from the other side of the chamber. “Do you think that you can bring your dream journals with us when we sail North?”

  She hadn’t looked up from where she was seated. Her question made him curious, she and he often shared their dreams with each other, and when they weren't able to share them, they would discuss them at length.

  “I don't see why that should be an issue, but you’ve got my attention now, what prompted this request?”

  She straightened up, and pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and then pushed herself from the chair and stood, taking something that was laying on the surface of the table she had been seated at with her, before crossing the space to stand before him. “The other day, you were going through some of the chests over there,” she pointed to a stack of chests off to one side of the room. “and I noticed this key,” she said, handing him a black iron key that had red and silver interwoven into the shape of a dragon. He had never seen the design before, though he remembered seeing the key.

  “I remember the key, but I have no clue what it could possibly unlock. That's why I left it be, but why do you have it?”

  Lyanna had the grace to blush that lovely shade of pink that he loved so well, and he had to bite back the urge to pull her into his arms and muss up her carefully composed demeanor with a hungry kiss. “Unlike you, I actually did recognize the design. Though I'm surprised that you didn't put it together. This key belongs to the chambers of Visenya. The sigil matches the design on the bedding and is displayed many times throughout her rooms, so I grabbed it in case I found myself with some spare time. And I was able to check into it earlier today after I finished my work with maester Gillyen.” 

  She placed the key into his palm and then pulled him back to the place that she had claimed as her own over the past many days that they had been able to spend time exploring this hidden wonder. Lain across the surface were innumerable scrolls and journals. “What are these?” he found himself asking, highly intrigued by what she’d uncovered.

  “They are the words of other dreamers I think. My Valyrian isn't perfect, no matter how hard you insist that I am a fast learner, but someone had the mercy to illustrate in some of these.” Lyanna told him, her hand reaching out to one of the journals and flip through the pages. 

  Rhaegar found himself moving around the desk and sitting down in her chair to get a better look at the documents she had discovered. “And you say you found them in Visenya’s chambers?”

  Lyanna nodded her head, “Another compartment hidden within the shelving.” she began to worry at her bottom lip, and he couldn't help but find it odd that she would feel nervous about her discovery or his reaction to it.

  He pulled her down to sit in his lap and placed a kiss to her neck, just behind her ear. “Whatever it is that has your nerves on edge, please be at ease. I would very much love for you would show me what you have unearthed.” He urged her, while one hand rubbed soothing circles into her lower back.

  Tentatively, Lyanna reached out and pulled a yellowing piece of rolled parchment from the pile and passed it to him. He untangled himself enough to hold the document with both hands and then he unrolled it. The script was fluid and elegant, perfectly written High Valyrian.

   _“I dreamed of him again, of Aegon, Visenya and Rhaenys. The Dark Prince atop his dragon, born amidst salt and smoke.”_  

  His eyes traveled to the image that had been drawn with care into the lower portion of the parchment. His eyes flew to Lyanna in an instant. . .

  “They have been dreaming about our son forever Rhaegar… so I thought about when you told me that you’ve always kept records of your dreams, and about when you told me you had found records of Visenya’s and some of Daenys portents as well. I was hoping that you would allow me to bring them with us to Winterfell so that I can compare them to mine own. I've drawn in mine as well, and I want to know how much or how little we share.” Lyanna answered the question that was on the tip of her tongue before he even had the chance to ask her.

  “Very well, I will get you the ones I have here on the island with me, though I have a few in my chambers in the Red Keep as well.” he smiled at her then, a true smile—he could feel it.

  What are you smiling about?” she asked suspiciously.

  He shook his head, “Tis nothing, it's only that you never stop amazing me. I've lived here off and on for my entire life and yet I would know next to nothing of my home if it weren't for you. And,” he paused.

  “And?” Lyanna questioned.

  “And, you are the most amazing person I've ever known, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and it only becomes more true every single day that passes.” he took a moment to look her over. It was true, she is still just as dark and lovely as the first time he had laid eyes on her, but her hips were spreading, her breasts were more full, her lips were a deeper shade of red, and her hair had also grown some. It had been long before to be sure, but she was almost sitting on it now. Even her beautiful moon-kissed skin had a tinge of pink that clung to her over the past few weeks, like she was in a constant state of embarrassment.

  She squirmed under his scrutiny, which made him clear his throat to hide his inner dialogue. “Do I make you uncomfortable?” he teased.

  “Not at all, it's just that sometimes I feel like you can see straight through me, into my very soul and it makes me feel bare, unguarded and defenseless.” he could tell that the confession had cost her.

  “Is that such a bad thing? To feel exposed to the person who sees you for who you truly are? For the Lady, the girl, the warrior, the shieldmaiden, the spearwife and the Queen you truly are? I love you for all of those things, for all of your strengths, and all of your self perceived weaknesses. They only make you more beautiful in my eyes. All of the parts of you that you’ve hidden away from the world are all of the parts that I love the most. Is that not the most freeing feeling in the world? To not have to hide behind a mask with me? Because I know that you make me feel more alive than I've ever felt in my entire life and that is because you lay me bare, every time your eyes meet mine, or your hand touches my own. I have no secrets from you Lyanna and I would have it no other way.”

  Her head came to rest upon his shoulder and they sat that way for a few moments before she spoke again. “Nor would I, my love. It just takes some getting used to, that's all.”

  He understood. She had been hiding her true self from the world for Gods only knew how long and now she was being told that she had nothing to hide. He made a note to himself to speak with her Lord Father about this. He would not have her hide any longer.

  He busied himself over the next few days with thoughts of that conversation he’d had with Lyanna never far from his mind. So with that in mind, he went to find Arthur, who had for these past few days been given leave to spend time with Elia due to their planned departure in little less than a weeks time.

  Today however, he found Arthur in the company of the household guard going over final details regarding their departure, the safety and security of Princess Elia and Princess Rhaenys as well as brainstorming ideas that could add more guards to their garrison on the island.

  He had meant to discuss this with both Oswell and Arthur in truth, and he had a mind to bring some of the boys from the port town and the small towns that had sprung up outside of the castle into the garrison after some thorough training. . . But that would have to wait until later, there was something else he wanted to discuss with his best friend.

  Once they were alone, Arthur turned his attention toward him. “My Prince, is there something that I can help you with?”

  “I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?”

  Arthur gave him a curious look, “Forgive me, but you are My Prince you need not ask favors. Tell me what it is you require and I’ll endeavor to help.” he promised. As Rhaegar had known he would.

  “You once told Lyanna that you would train with her and after we were wed I made a fuss of things, and as a result she has not had a moment to see that promise come to fruition. I would ask that you make some time for her and I promise not to interfere.” 

  “Do you honestly think I would let you stop me from fulfilling my promise to our future Queen? Or that she would let you stop her from doing what she desires?” Arthur asked him mockingly.

  “Well, no—,” and he hadn’t, but they hadn’t trained once since they had arrived in King’s Landing or in the time since they had been here on the island, and he had promised her that he wouldn't seek to suppress her true nature. But after reflecting on his actions while on the King's Road and how he tried to keep her from training with Arthur for fear of her being pregnant. He’d basically reduced her to a vessel fit only for bearing his heirs. The very thing he had promised he wouldn't do.

  “I only mean that I would like for you to begin your training once we leave. You should have some extra time and I'm sure Lyanna would appreciate the distraction while we travel.”

  “Would you mind walking with me?” Arthur asked with a knowing smile on his face.

  “As you will,” Rhaegar allowed, gesturing for Arthur to lead the way.

  He smirked before setting off toward the outer yard, in the direction of the smithy. “Why do I get the feeling that You’ve been brooding about this?” he asked in a mirthful tone. “You're going to worry yourself into an early grave, I hope you know that. And for the record, while I respect you and love you; you crowned her a Queen and named her your equal. When and if Lyanna is ready to train, I suspect that she will approach me. And for your information, I would accept no matter what your feelings are on the matter. But, if you're worried that she hasn’t trained because of your words or actions, then you are torturing yourself for nothing. Her Grace and I have not been idle, while you may not be privy to this information I can assure you that I have been busy observing her movements, learning the way she uses her hands, and determining the best weapon for her hand.” Arthur said with pride in his voice.

  “And what did you come up with?” his curiosity was piqued, he had also thought about a gift for his wife.

  “Can't you guess? I thought it would be rather obvious to you.” Arthur was clearly enjoying himself… though he wasn't sure where he was going with this.

  He didn't have to wait long for his answer as the castles smith approached them with a bundle in his hands. He had searched for a proper smith for quite some time before he found Tobho Mott and brought him here from Qohor specifically because he had been trained in how to rework previously forged Valyrian Steel and outside of that he was also a master at his craft.

  “My Prince, Ser Arthur,” the man greeted, bowing his head in respect “it is a pleasure to see you today.” 

   “The pleasure is all mine,” Rhaegar returned with a smile. “Would either of you care to explain what’s going on here?”

  The two men shared a conspiratory look, and then Tobho moved to a work table and cleared some space for Arthur to place the bundle down. “I felt that the best weapon for Her Grace was a sword because that is the first weapon I saw her wield, though I am aware that she also has skill with a bow and a lance. Jousting however, isn't something that she will have a need of learning nor the opportunity to put to use, and the bow only takes care of range, which is always great if you have the high ground, but I fear that if the Queen is in a situation that she needs a weapon it will be one where the bow will not be enough. For that reason she will need something that she will be able to wield in close quarters. . .” Arthur paused, allowing his words to resonate.

  “Her instincts are sharp and she is a quick study though her footwork needs more practice. Her moves are fluid and as such, a long slender blade is more suited for her arm. She is for the most part left handed like yourself, I've observed, but she also has use of her right hand. It is for that reason we chose a hilt that is long enough to accommodate two hands, but not so long that she is unable to wield it with only one.” He listened as Arthur listed off all of these observations that he had made, all while he was carefully unwrapping the sword that Rhaegar was desperately trying to picture in his mind's eye. When Arthur turned to face him, he presented Rhaegar with a longsword that was slimmer than the standard, with a modified and elongated grip, meant to fit a smaller hand, or in this case, smaller hands.

  The hilt was carved from bleached bone into the visage of the World Tree, with rubies set into the place where eyes had been carved, and stained red around the mouth and eyes. The crossguard was two snarling dragons with a ruby set into the center. The grip was wrapped in black leather, embroidered with red and silver stitching.

  So many questions passed through his mind in an instant, but one thing stood out clear enough. “Under different circumstances she would have wielded Dark Sister.” he turned toward the man who was not only his kin but also his best friend.

  “You're right, it should have been obvious.” he said with a chuckle.

  “Sooner or later you will realize that I am always right.” Arthur quipped back jokingly.

  “I hope you won't be too disappointed when I find Visenya’s sword and gift it to her.” he told his friend, though the message was meant as a jest. He had every intention to locate both blades and return them to their rightful place. However, if he was unlucky in that effort, he still had a backup plan, which included finding the answer to crafting one from scratch and was not limited to acquiring all the spare pieces of Valyrian Steel from across the Known World to have new swords reforged for his heirs. Though the former was nigh on impossible, until now with any luck as the latter was slow going and quite costly.

  Arthur glanced to Tobho, “No offence to you, but if I had to choose between castle forged steel over Valyrian Steel, I would not blame Lyanna for choosing the more famous of the two.”

  “None taken Ser Arthur, I can't say I would blame you.” the smith returned before addressing him directly.

  “My Prince, congratulations on your win, I trust your armor was to your satisfaction?” he enquired.

  “Indeed it was. I was the envy of many knights and near untouchable. The armor fit perfectly and did nothing to restrict my movements.” he confessed, though now that he thought about it some he wondered if the smith would know anything about forging weaponry with dragonglass.

  Ever since Howland had mentioned how brittle the material truly was, he had been thinking about a way to incorporate it into metal so that he could protect the glass from breaking whilst engaged in battle…

  They left the smithy with a promise to stop in for a talk once he returned from the North... Once he had more time to work through all the books he had found on metallurgy and spellwork that he had put to the side with the other books he intended to bring along with them. And with any luck, he would be closer to the answers he was seeking and forging Valyrian Steel would no longer be a lost art for much longer.

  Arthur was leading him back toward Aegon’s Garden when he was approached by a servant. “My Prince, maester Gillyen has sent me to bring this straight to you.” he passed the object he’d been holding over, which revealed itself to be a scroll, sealed and sent from Tywin Lannister.

  “Thank you for bringing this, do you know how long ago this arrived?”  

  The boy shook his head. “No, My Prince, but the maester summoned me to the rookery to retrieve it and bring it straight here to you.”

  Rhaegar nodded his head, dismissing the boy. When he was certain the boy was gone, he broke the seal and read the contents of the message.

  _My Prince,_  
_My congratulations on your win at Harrenhal, I do hope you understand why I could not attend. There are many matters that I would very much like to discuss with you in that regard, as I am sure you are aware._  
_The King was very gracious to honor my heir with a position on the Kingsguard. Alas, I'm afraid that leaves me without an heir, as I am sure you know._  
_My offer stands, should you so desire. I only ask that you keep my son in mind._  
_It also comes to my attention that the Princess Elia is in need of a new Lady in Waiting and Cersei has kindly asked that I pass along her interest should things not work out with the Lady Lyanna Stark. They tell stories that the girl has little to nothing in common with the Princess and that she knows even less of southern customs._  
_News of Robert reached the Rock, apparently he is still wroth over being denied the Stark girl and I am sure he can be brought around to support your cause if you promise to return his betrothed once the throne is secured.  
 I will await word from you in regards to the time and location of the next council._

_M08/W04/Y281_

 “Well?” Arthur enquired.

  He didn't deign to respond right away, instead he passed the scroll over to his knight. After a moment he heard Arthur snort, and he took that as a good sign to speak. “Aside from him being less than pleased about Jaime’s appointment to the Kingsguard, he now treads on dangerous grounds in regards to Lyanna.”

  “I agree, these words do not sit well with me. Tywin has never held a single conversation with Robert that I am aware of, yet he presumes to know his mind in regards to the Lady Lyanna. I don't need to point out his ulterior motives in this?” he started to say.

  “No, you don't but that won't matter. I've already explained to Cersei why she would never hold my attention, which at the moment I find myself regretting.” he had acted too brashly at the tourney, knowing that Cersei would not handle his rejection well, based on her father's example after his father refused the match the first time it was proposed by Tywin.

  “You speak about the night of the feast? You think she told Lord Tywin what you said to her?” Arthur’s eyes went wide at the implication.

  “Honestly, I really don't know, but at this point I don't put it past Cersei, considering that he wrote more about Lyanna and Robert than he did anything else. Assuming this is the case, Tywin is looking for blood. He would most certainly feel slighted.”

  “I think you're right. You can't bring Cersei here, but you can't allow this message to go unanswered.” Arthur counseled.

  “Aye, what do you suggest?” he could honestly use some advice right about now. He felt as if his brain was working overtime with all the things that he had been trying to juggle recently.

  “You should tell him that you will present the option to Elia, but that Lyanna and Elia have made a good match so far. However, until circumstances change, Lyanna’s placement is not for you to decide. Which means that Lyanna remains. As for the rest, mention that you shall be traveling over the next weeks, and will contact him once you are stationary once more and have a better answer in regards to the next place they will convene. I trust you to handle all the specifics, as long as you stay on topic and do not provide him more information than absolutely necessary.”

  As they entered the garden, he heard the sound of laughter coming from Rhaenys, so he assumed that Elia was within, but then he heard the laughter of two others and he quickened his pace some.

  When they rounded the bend, he found Lyanna and Rhaenys seated in the grass making a flower crown for Balerion who was struggling desperately to get free of his mistress hold.

  “Please tell me that you do not intend to crown Balerion… surely a dragon as fearsome as he deserves a bit more respect. . .” he teased, sneaking up behind his little girl and tickling her so she would release her poor kitten.

  “Papa!” Rhaenys squealed happily the moment she turned around to pout, just before she realized that it had been him behind her.

  He chuckled, she definitely had her mother’s Dornish temper, there was no doubt about it. Though, she was much easier to distract than Elia when her ire was earned… for how long that would last, Gods only knew.

  Lyanna looked up to greet them and beamed the moment her eyes met his. “What a wonderful surprise. I hadn’t thought to lay eyes on you until later on.” she said.

  I had some free time, and I wanted to check in with Arthur, who just happened to be heading this way. I decided to join him, though I confess, I was unaware that he was leading me to you.” he told her lovingly, offering her his hand to help her to her feet.

  When she was standing before him, he pulled her close and placed a tender kiss upon her brow, breathing in her icy scent. The sharp, bitter-sweet scent of winter roses and iron.

  Arthur stepped up behind them and cleared his throat, reminding him of why they had come. “Oh, right—,” he moved aside, “Arthur came here to find you, I almost forgot.”

  Lyanna knit her brows together, a question… so he stepped further back and allowed Arthur to approach. “Princess Lyanna,” Arthur began, “I made a promise to you on our way home, and I endeavor to keep my word in all things.” He bent to one knee and rested the bundle that he had been carrying on his thigh.

  Lyanna’s eyes went wide at the sight of it and she glanced nervously back to him before returning to the bundle that Arthur had begun to unwrap.

  Rhaenys too, watched eagerly as Arthur removed the last tie and unwound the cloth that covered the sword within. Lyanna squeezed his hand tightly the moment the top of the hilt was presented to her, before he released her hand and urged her forward to grasp it.

  She stood there a moment longer, gathering up her courage. “Is this what I think it is?” she asked aloud.

  Arthur nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. Lyanna swallowed back the lump that had been growing in her throat and then she crossed the distance and wrapped her hand fully around the hilt, allowing Arthur to pull back on the cloth and reveal the blade that had been crafted specifically for her hand.

  Here in the light he could see the blade much better than he had back in the armory. While this blade was not made of Valyrian Steel, the beauty and craftsmanship could not be denied. Simply put, the blade was a work of art, with its white bone hilt and deep grey crossguard. But the blade itself was unique in that the edges were a deep crimson red that matched the rubies that had been set into the pommel, but the long fuller that ran down the center of the blade was a deep smoky grey, so dark that it looked almost black.

  Lyanna still had not uttered a word, so lost was she in her study of the blade that she was being gifted. So Arthur broke the silence.  
  “You know, every great sword has a name.” he prompted.

  Lyanna pulled the sword fully from Arthur’s grip then, and held it up so that she could see the sun reflect off of it, before tearing her gaze away from it for the first time since it had been revealed. “Before I name her, tell me how he accomplished this.” she asked, her tone clearly told them how awed she was by her gift.

  Arthur smiled, almost smugly before he answered the question he himself had wanted to ask. “I should have known you would want to know this first, very well. I paid attention to the story you told about your dream. The one of the direwolves armored with glass and metal and it got me thinking. So I approached Lord Howland and I asked him if he knew anything about it. And a week past, he presented me with what he believed to be the answer, metal was infused with a dye that the smith learned in Qohor, but the center was infused with the liquid form of dragonglass which is what gives it that deep color. The glass is strengthened and protected by the metal.” Arthur looked pleased with the decision, and Rhaegar found himself pleased as well.

  This answered the question that he had been mulling over in regards to using dragonglass in addition to regular steel, of course they had no guarantee that the weapons held the correct properties that could kill the Army of the Dead, but if it can be melted down and reshaped, then it can most certainly be used when creating weaponry and armor. He hadn’t intended to go back to the armory before he departed the island, but now he had little choice… his attention was pulled back to Arthur and Lyanna.

  “It may not be Valyrian Steel, but this sword is one of a kind, just like her mistress. How does she feel in your hand?” Arthur asked, getting back to business, never wasting a moment to teach.

  Lyanna stepped back, and held her arm out, extending her elbow so the sword was balanced and held as an extension to her arm. She switched her stance and then she switched her arm, then she looked back to Arthur, a smile on her face. “Surprisingly light, I think the dragonglass helped to make the blade lighter.”

  “That was the plan, I'm happy to hear that you approve. Have you a name for her?”

  “Aye, she is a balance of Ice and Fire, you’ve given me both, therefore I can not deny her, her inner nature. House Targaryen has known two swords of legendary renown and something tells me that this one will be the same. So it is only proper that her name will represent the House she will belong to, long after we are gone.”

  She looked around to check that no one was near, before she swung her sword a few times to get a feel for the way she moved. He could hear the whistle of the air as the blade flowed over the dark grey fuller and the crimson edges of the blade.  
  “Her name is Wintersfire.” Lyanna declared much to Rhaenys delight, as she squirmed away from her mothers hold, eager to see the sword for herself.

  “A perfect name.” Arthur said with pride. “I had the smith commission for you a practice blade that is similar to this one, though the weight will be slightly heavier. Whenever you are ready to resume training, I am at your service.” Arthur vowed, shooting him a smug smile in the process.

  Lyanna beamed at Arthur’s words. “Arthur, I cannot possibly thank you for this gift. I could spend the rest of my life trying to express to you how much this means to me, and I've no doubt I still wouldn't do an adequate enough job expressing my gratitude. It is my honor to accept such a gift from you, both the sword and your offer to train me. Though now I wish I had more time to start.  
  And this confirmed his suspicions, she thought that her learning to swing a blade was something she could only do here on the island, where word was less likely to reach her father, but Arthur wouldn't know that, so he chose this moment to interject.

  “You do not have to wait to return to begin training, and I promise you no one will interfere with Arthur’s instruction. As long as you are well enough to train, and Arthur is willing to train with you. The decision as to when and where will remain yours. Even in the North at Winterfell. I will not limit nor cage you, you are my equal, as Arthur likes to remind me, and I intend to make sure not only your Lord Father knows this, but the entire realm as well once the time is right.”

  The following day he found himself outside of Master Motts forge, a few books in hand and feeling of hope blossoming in his chest. 

  “Your Grace, I hadn’t expected to see you again before you departed.” Tobho greeted him, bowing in greeting.

  “Please, there is no need.” He had no need for all of the pomp and ceremony that came with being the Crowned Prince and the Lord of Dragonstone. “The truth is, I hadn’t thought to be here so soon. Nevertheless, once I had the chance to see the true work of the blade you created for my wife, I wanted to speak to you about making more like it, but that's not all.”

  Tobho gestured for him to come in and have a seat in his work room, where he kept all of his papers, orders and kept track of his inventory. Taking note of the books that he had brought with him, Tobho cleared some space and offered it to him, “Whatever your reasons for coming, I would be honored to assist you, My Prince.” He vowed earnestly.

  “I’m glad to hear that because I wanted to get your opinion about something.” He paused, trying to find the right place to begin, but he quickly put his reservations aside and let it all out.

  “As you are aware, when I reached out to you, it was because I wanted Dragonstone to have a master smith on hand who had the experience and training to work Valyrian steel. Though, I understand that you are able to rework previously forged steel only, as the art for forging it new has been lost since the Doom of Valyria. But I have hope that those circumstances could be changing in the near future. However, in the meantime I was wondering whether you have knowledge of specific ore properties that are specific to volcanic deposits, or whether you have colleagues who would be able to assess the island, namely the dragonmont for rich iron deposits that are similar to the ore that could be found in Valyria.”

  Tobho thought about this for a moment, and Rhaegar knew that this was no small matter they were consulting about.

  “I was actually hoping to gain your permission to mine some of that dragonglass and I was also hoping for permission to poke around within the caverns for that very reason. But if you are looking for high iron deposits, Your Grace, you need look no further than the skulls of your winged counterparts.” 

  This was a tricky situation, on the one hand, he desperately wanted to know if Dragonstone had these resources that were necessary to create Valyrian Steel, but the idea of allowing someone to move around the island, and under the Dragonmont unchecked was a risky venture. He would have to make arrangements with Elia while he was away to make sure that he was assisted but not let into the hatchery. . . While there were not any more dragons on Dragonstone, the cavern was still sacred to him and it had not been fully explored and cleared of anything that could be considered priceless to his family.

  “I will make arrangements to have a team available to assist you and a guide to show you through the areas of the Dragonmont that are safe. Princess Elia will send word to you when everything is arranged. If you find that you need to bring in someone to assess the condition of the soil or the island for necessary resources, make the arrangements and Elia will see to it that any payment or travel expenses are seen to.”

  Master Tobho seemed pleased with his answer, “That is more than generous of you and of course should I have need of further assistance I will go to the Princess straight away.”

  Rhaegar nodded, “Very well, as for the Dragonglass it would be no problem to allow you more access to it, I ask that you keep a detailed inventory of your work and I would also like to have an acolyte here to study the weaponry once you have finished with it.”

  All and all, his goal was met and they spent a few hours pouring over the contents that he had found describing the terrain of Valyria, and some logs that had been preserved from before the doom of mineral deposits that were being mined from within the Fourteen Flames. Tobho quickly agreed that it was highly likely that the conditions of the island were very similar to those of Valyria and is likely the reason that they chose this island as the place for their Westernmost citadel. And so he left the armory feeling more hopeful than he had about the possibility of finding more valuable resources on an island people believed held nothing of significance save the Crown Prince’s household and the relics of dragons long gone.

* * *

###  **The She-wolf:** _M09/ W1/ Y281AC_

* * *

  “I think we  need to talk about my father's _offer_.” Her husband said, interrupting  her thoughts...

  Lyanna looked up from her seat across the chamber. They had spent several days locked away in the library, searching through some of the documents that had been hidden away from the world since the time that Dragonstone had been created by the Freehold.

  “I'm listening,” she had been thinking about this as well in truth. Rhaegar sat in the same place he’d been for hours. Staring at the map and deciding on what material he should carry with him when they sail North.

  “I was a fool, I never dreamed that my father would be amenable toward you, so I chose to keep my mark a secret from him. I worried that he would see it as a threat. And now I keep thinking about that day I found you speaking with him in the Council chamber and I can't help but to wonder if I made a mistake. I never would have thought him to be so receptive to fulfilling the prophecy, or even willing to entertain talk about the _Pact_.” 

  He, she realized, had a way of obsessing about things which were out of his control. “You could have been forthright with your father, true. I also could have told my father and then Robert would have been a non-issue, unfortunately we chose different paths and now we have to find a way to make the most of it.”

  There would be no getting around the fact that they were both marked and they were both bonded and Aerys had never been notified about any of it.

  “Before I witnessed your effect on my father with my own eyes, I would have stood by my decision. But now, seeing how he accepted your words so easily, I almost believe that the reveal won't have as negative an impact as I initially thought. Especially if we can spin it in a way that feels like he's gaining the upper hand.” Her husband looked almost hopeful as he processed aloud.

  “You're going to have to be a bit more specific if you intend for me to agree. Also, you forget that the king's plans include publicly setting  Elia aside, or making me your second wife which is somehow meant as a slight toward my family.” They would have been better off revealing the whole truth in the Capitol, at least then it would have been out in the open and less of an issue at this point.

  “Have you considered spending more time in King’s Landing?” she asked him.

  Rhaegar looked at her dumbly for a moment before he responded. “Why would we spend more time in King's Landing? I can't make the necessary moves I need to make while Varys and my father's other cronies are lurking in the shadows, eagerly waiting for a chance for me to make a mistake that they can report back to Aerys.”

  She thought about what he said for a while, but she couldn't shake the thought that she could accomplish a great deal on Rhaegar’s behalf if she were in the Red Keep. For starters, the King was less likely to burn men, women and children while she was there. But also, as long as she was in a place where she could temper his madness, controlling the king would be much easier for Rhaegar, and perhaps having him abdicate peacefully would be an option…

  She was probably suffering from the delusions of the average teenage girl. The truth was, nothing was ever this simple and she would be a fool to believe that anything regarding Aerys could be handled so easily.

  “So, how would you suggest going about this mummery?”

  “A mummery won't be enough, I think we need to spin a version of the truth, the King wants something, and I believe it's the upperhand.” She met his statement with a raised brow, he would have to be more specific… luckily, he seemed to understand and he continued. “House Stark was promised a dragon, but the dragon was not promised  a wolf, merely the support of the pack. We can use this to appeal to his vanity, but there will have to be a confession from both of us. From me, he will want humility, he will want me to confess that I want you and that I am too weak to deny myself...”

  “He will also want validation that Elia was not _“worthy”_ enough to be the future Queen. I believe that a report that she is on bedrest again so soon after being released  post-Rhaenys would be all the proof the king would care to seek. From you—, well aside from what you already provide—the North’s further subjugation and a permanent hostage to keep them in line…” he hurried the last part out before she could interrupt.

  She felt her face scrunch up in rage at the implication. “I am not a hostage!” she nearly jumped from her seat.

  “Of course you aren’t!” Rhaegar quickly clarified, “But this is exactly what will be going through Aerys mind, no matter what you will or won't call it. As for our marks, I think that we can admit to them, but I have to admit this in person, and so do you. We will have to go back to the Red Keep at some point and as you so kindly put it before... if you are with child we will need to do this before the new year. That would give us about three moons to conduct our affairs and then go to my father. No matter what though, I need to send word to him about Aemon, about your father's maester and his purpose for being in Winterfell. Better he hears it from me than from the Spider.”

  She knew he was right about all of it and at least she could take some small comfort knowing that she could use her gift to explain her mark to Aerys. The more she thought about it, the more she was reminded of how resolute in his decision he appeared to be when he brought up the subject of marriage in King's Landing, and maybe he just needed a larger canvas to showcase his supremacy…

  “Rhaegar?” she spoke up hesitantly, not really sure if what she was about to suggest was worth mentioning, “What would your father think about Robert not letting the betrothal rejection alone? By raising the issue to Lord Arryn and then in turn to my father, is that not the opposite of the vow he swore to the King?” She wasn't interested in starting a war, but she understood Aerys’ cruelty, and taking her father’s choice for her husband had been about control and it had also been about controlling Robert. Seeing his son marry the woman that Robert believes was taken from him would be the ultimate show of power to a mad man…

  Rhaegar must have had the same thought, she saw the recognition light up his face almost as soon as she had finished speaking. “We would need more than a mere inquiry, and we should avoid being the one to deliver the news to my father, though, perhaps we can find a way to make sure Varys somehow stumbles across these whispers…”

   That would work, but she still had one issue with all of this… “You will need to speak with Elia and Arthur before you include her in any report you intend to send your father. Her condition is hers to announce, not ours and I've no doubt that you have a way to control which information leaves the island and what does not. So be sure that you do them both the courtesy of asking first, Elia’s dignity shall not be taken from her just so we can have what we want, nor so that your father can torture innocent people for his ammusement.”

   Rhaegar nodded, “So we have an understanding then? I will send a messenger in regards to Walys, Aemon and the Citadel as a whole as this is something that cannot be avoided. I will also seek out Elia and Arthur and talk this through with them and ask for permission to use her condition in my report.”

  She nodded in return. “Very well, you know your father far better than I do, if you believe telling him is for the best then you have my blessing.”

  Over the course of the following days Lyanna found herself going through the books that had been given over into her care that she had requested. Rhaegar himself had filled five journals which she added to the three belonging to Daenys and the three belonging to Visenya. 

  As eager as she was to read through the journals of two of the most famous of the Targaryen scions, the truth was she spent most of her time pouring over Rhaegar's words, his dreams, his portents...

  From what she knew, his dreams started early and even though he claimed that he had one or two still in King’s Landing the journals he had given her had dreams recorded from when he was no more than seven namedays old. And this specific journal had held her attention off and on since the moment that he had given it to her. The reason being is that, written within its pages are not just one, but multiple mentions of her… not her name, but she was there written in ink, a shifting shadow in a storm… the taste of iron on his tongue when he awoke, long dark hair drifting in the wind, the scent of winter roses and wolves howling. 

  She had dreams as well, and the more that she thought of it, she had been dreaming of him for just as long. Winged shadows, sad sweet melodies, the burning cold and a blistering inferno. Silver and indigo… she wished she had known. Unlike her husband, her mother had taken the time to teach her how to draw, so she had some images to accompany her dream journals but there was little doubt of who he was dreaming of.

  Among the many mentions of her, she also found mentions of his dragon and of Summerhall. She read of how he dreamt over and over of the ritual that his Great Grandfather used in his attempt to hatch dragons, and how he dreamt of his own birth among the burning wreckage that once was the summer palace of his ancestors. Her heart broke for him, a boy of seven who was destined to dream of the death and destruction of his family. 

  Not all of it was tragic however, as he grew older and was permitted to travel outside the city his journals would start to mention his trips to Summerhall, his nights under the sun. How he could feel the magic that had marked the earth, and how it still called to him. He wrote of Jenny of Oldstones and of his uncle Duncan and the Woods Witch that Jenny called her kin and he wrote that sometimes the Woods Witch would come to see him while he camped beneath the stars and she would tell him her dreams, and how he would write her a new verse as a payment.

  She decided that she would ask him to take her there. He had said to her that he would, but she hadn’t been able to fathom where they would possibly find the time to make such a trip but after reading all of this, she was determined to have Rhaegar make some time so that they could go.

  A few days before they were set to depart Rhaegar finally came to her with news, the result of his conversation with Elia and Arthur. She couldn’t decide whether or not it was good or bad news so, she sat in the chair beside him and she waited patiently for him to explain.

  “I went to speak with Elia as we discussed, and she agreed that it is best if we disclose her condition to the king,” he passed her a sheet of parchment.

  “What is this?” 

  “Elia had already drafted up a letter she intended to have sent to the King, her and Arthur discussed it apparently about a week ago and they decided to give it to me today. After we received word from Lord Tywin, neither she nor Arthur felt comfortable leaving our positions undefended.” Rhaegar explained.

  She unfolded the parchment and scanned the words that had been beautifully scrawled in perfect calligraphy. Of course she knew that Elia supported her and Rhaegar, and she knew that Arthur would defend them with his life. Still, this felt like too much… “Is this even wise? Will the king not see this as a manipulation or even an insult to your House?”

  “The truth is, we have no guarantee of how this will play out but this, this is Elia’s decision and one that she made on her own. I think that if it is delivered beside my own words, and following a detailed report from Varys in regards to Robert and Tywin, the King will see these words as fortunate rather than a slight to our noble house.”

  If she could be certain things wouldn't take a wrong turn she wouldn’t feel so bad, but as things stand, she had no clue what the King’s state of mind would be by the time this news reached him. “I want you to swear to me that you won't allow anything to happen to Elia, even if that means that you have to stop your father yourself… Swear to me that she will be safe.”

  “Lyanna, Elia is our family, our pack. And our pack will stick together, isn’t that what we are supposed to do?” He questioned.

  She nodded, affirming that he was correct. 

  “Fear not my love, I shall do all that I can to make sure that no harm comes to any of you. Even if that means that I have to stand between my father and those I love personally. I would do so without a care for my own safety, for all of you… this includes Elia, and my mother and Viserys and Rhaenys and even Ned and Ashara.” He vowed.

  She felt herself relax a bit after extracting such a promise from her husband but she would not regret it. Elia was her family, she had sacrificed so much for her, even before Elia even knew her. Lyanna had a duty to all of them, but especially to Elia and she would not allow anyone to fail her.

* * *

###  **The “Mad” Dragon:** _M09/ W01/ Y281AC_

* * *

  “But, Your Grace, I don't understand…” Pycelle spluttered. 

  Aerys rolled his eyes, what had he truly expected from this simpering idiot? “What is there to understand Pycelle? Your King has given you orders, I advise you to see them fulfilled with all haste.” he snapped back.

  Ever since his conversation with the Stark girl, he couldn't escape the implications of her words. He had spent so much time searching for a Valyrian bride for his heir, when all he needed was a conservative magical bloodline.

  And now he had a suspicion that someone had purposely concealed this information, to keep the Stark girl out of the way. Well, he was determined to obtain answers about all of it.

  Based on what the girl had said, the Starks took the daughters of these magic wielding Houses to wife, which was clever in the overall scheme. The magic would then remain within the Stark line while giving none of their own magic away. . . And Aegon the First was not aware of this when he agreed to the pact, otherwise the deal would have been much different, he was sure.

  That girl was the key to everything, of this, he had no doubt. If they all thought he was blind, let them. But it was clear to him that she had some type of ability within her. Maybe not dragon magic, but every time she was near, he felt a bit more like himself, before Duskendale. Like there is clarity finally amongst the whispers that constantly plagued his mind. The fire burned, but it did not rage when she was nearby.

  He decided not to mention this to anyone, he knew they believed he was mad, and perhaps he was, but greatness and madness were always two sides of the same coin, but soon they will understand why I choose wildfire as my champion… ashes can not rise up and kill you…

  It had been a few days later when Pycelle sent him the material he had requested. Though there were quite fewer documented cases than he had hoped, and almost all of what he had hoped for was not available to the Citadel, as most had occurred before conquest. However, he did have some luck from some other topics he had requested information on.

  There had been next to nothing on the History and Lineage of Houses Stark, Gardner, the Barrow King's, and the Marsh King's, and only a few mentions of a battle between House Stark and the Warg Kings of the Wolfs Wood. But what Aerys did manage to find only further validated all that the Stark girl had told him. —Only the girl failed to mention that the male lines of said Houses were believed to have been put to the sword, while other sources claimed that they of the line of the Warg Kings, escaped South and were believed to share the blood of House Blackwood.

  He fell into a rabbit hole after that, looking into the history of House Targaryen and its historical members who had ridden dragons, and also those who had dragon dreams and he found that after the Dance, it had become almost taboo for his kin to admit to having them due to the stigma that the dreamer would be considered mad.

  The girl had been right yet again, and when he looked into the histories on wargs and skin changers,and words like _monster_ and _abomination,_ began to assault his eyes, he truly began to understand.

  The Citadel opposed magic, though they claim that they only seek to chronicle worldly knowledge… they are writing the narrative, he realized but found his thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door. 

  “Come in,” he called.

  Ser Gerold peeked his head inside his study. “Lord Varys Is here to see you, Your Grace.” he announced.

  “Very well, send him in and see that we are not disturbed. And send word to Rhaella, I would like her to come here after Varys leaves. Tell her to bring Viserys as well.” he added.

  Ser Gerold nodded, and opened the door wide to allow Varys to enter. Once the door was closed, he gestured for Lord Varys to have a seat across from his. “Tell me what songs your little birds are singing. Any news of the Mystery Knight?”

  He did not expect any, in truth. He already knew who the culprit is, but it served his purposes to pretend to be ignorant. Lyanna Stark perhaps knowingly told him everything he needed to know about the matter.  But when the realization finally came, he found that he rather liked the girl, and could not fault her as her only female heroine had been a founding Queen, a strong warrior and a true Valyrian dragon.

  However, if he had to use this piece of information to serve his own purposes he would, make no mistake about it. He had declared the Mystery Knight a threat to the crown, therefore it was his royal prerogative to decide her fate.

  “None, Your Grace. It's as if he does not exist.” Varys replied.

  Interesting choice of words _. . ._ ‘ _He_ ’ doesn't _._

  “There are songs from Dragonstone however,” Varys continued…

  This caught his attention. “Go on.”

  “The smallfolk talk about the Prince’s new Lady. They say that the Prince spends much time with the girl, while the Princess Elia spends most of her time in her chambers since arriving back on the island.” he tittered excitedly.

  This information only reaffirmed what he believed from the beginning. Rhaegar was infatuated with the girl, and if he held the girl, he held Rhaegar too. He could be controlled as long as he controlled that girls fate. The Martell girl was more hassle than she had been worth. Only being permitted to be out of her bed for two short months within a years time due to her sickly constitution. “What else do your birds sing, Spider?”

  “Brandon Stark arrived in Riverrun to finalize his betrothal to Catelyn Tully. As of now, there is no date yet announced. My birds say that the Stark heir is indifferent to the match, though the Tully girl is clearly half in love with the boy… There are whispers that the young Lord takes after your cousin, Lord Robert when it comes to women… As for the Lord Robert, my birds in the Eyrie report that the boy has not at all taken Your Graces decision in regards to the Lady Lyanna and himself as well as he had let on at Harrenhal. He, at my last report had convinced the Lord Jon Arryn to write to Lord Rickard on his behalf, I do believe that he has hopes that the Lord Rickard will still honor a betrothal against the wishes of the crown.”

  “The fool! I will burn him alive, who does he think he is?” Aerys raged, but Varys continued carefully.

  “Perhaps His Grace should allow the Crown Prince to address this matter once he reaches Winterfell.” the eunuch suggested.

  Another knock  at his door. “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Apologies, My King, but a messenger has arrived from Dragonstone carrying word from the Crown Prince. He has orders to see the message directly into your hands,” Ser Gerold informed him.

  This had his attention, Rhaegar had seldom used a messenger to send communication between Dragonstone and the Red Keep, if he was doing so now it was because he had sensitive information that he couldn't trust anyone else reading prior to himself. 

  “Very well, escort him inside and you will stay inside while he is here.” The kingsguard nodded and did as he was bid, going collect the boy that had come such a long way to play messenger.

  Once they had returned, the boy wasted little time getting down to the matter. “My King,” the man greeted, bowing low.

  “Rise, what news from Dragonstone?” he had little time for all the posturing.

  The boy reached into his tunic, and pulled out a scroll and reached toward Ser Gerold, who waited for permission from his King to proceed. Aerys nodded his assent and reached for the scroll once the knight had it in his hand.

  “I will await your orders, My King.” the boy commented and bowed once more.

  “That should be all for now, Ser Gerold.” he dismissed them both and set the scroll aside for the moment. Once it was just himself and the spider once more he bid him continue his report.

  There had been no news from Dorne, following the tourney where his son crowned the she-wolf as his Queen of Love and Beauty, slighting the Prince Doran’s whore of a sister, which did not sit well with him in truth. Why would they condone Elia’s public shaming? 

  Varys watched him in silence… which only made him bristle more.  
  “Perhaps, Your Grace would like to know what words the prince has written that he could not send by raven?” the spider suggested in a voice that oozed of premonition.

  Aerys snorted, “Or you could do us both a favor and tell me what you know and save me some time.” The games this worm played at times were starting to annoy him.

  “I've shared with you what I know, but I admit, I would not deny interest in knowing what Prince Rhaegar has shared.” Varys confessed.

  Aerys picked the scroll up once more and broke the wax seal of the Crown Prince of Dragonstone.

  _My King,_  
_I write to you with many matters in need of your personal attention. My plans to ride North to the Wall are to be delayed. Aemon writes that he will be riding south to aid Lord Rickard in Winterfell on a personal matter. This is the reason why this missive is being handed off to you via messenger, rather than being delivered by raven._  
_Our faith in the Citadel is being abused, and Lord Rickard has expressed that he believes that maester Pycelle, maester Walys, maester Zachary at Casterly Rock, as well as some private factions within the Citadel, and someone within House Hightower have been in constant communication and may be pulling strings to set the board in their favor._  
_Lord Rickard sent word as well, and he expressed his apologies for not presenting this matter directly to you, but as the maester on Dragonstone was never implicated he thought it may be best to send word here first and avoid Pycelle getting his hands on this communication._  
_I sail for Winterfell in a few days and I’ve requested that he postpone judgment until such a time that I arrive and can ascertain the full extent of this matter myself._  
_As for now, there is no acting maester in Winterfell and Lord Rickard is tending to all incoming ravens himself. I would suggest taking some precautions in the Red Keep, but I wonder if it might be more prudent to request acolytes from the Citadel to aid the Grand Maester while his grace finds other duties for Pycelle to tend to while we investigate this matter further._  
_I caution however, to keep him away from Viserys and the Queen and I counsel that you have Lord Varys keep an eye on him and whenever possible, shoot down any ravens that are sent without your leave by Pycelle to further monitor his communications outside of the Red Keep._  
_There is news from Casterly Rock, only whispers it would seem. Tywin is not pleased with Ser Jaime’s appointment and he schemes to have Cersei replace the Lady Lyanna as Princess Elia’s Lady in Waiting. I do not believe that he is content to stand aside and let another man serve as Hand, yet his pride won't allow for him to return to Your Graces side. Not as long as he believes that he was wronged in the appointment of Ser Jaime to the Kingsguard._  
_I have spent a good amount of time considering your words in regards to the Lady Lyanna Stark and try though I might, to fight the temptation, I confess Father, you are right. I desire her and what's more, I know she is the key to unlock all of this madness with the prophecy._  
_I've spent a great deal of time around her, and though she fights it, I know she feels the same. So I ask you, Father, to do what you must. I will take her as my own, in whatever capacity I can have her, be it as my only wife or a second wife…_  
_Furthermore, I do not believe Robert plans to honor his vow to his King. I believe that he is underhandedly trying to reach out to Lord Rickard and sew discontent over your decree in her regard._  
_For this reason, and with your permission, I would like to propose a match between myself and the Lady once I reach Winterfell and Lord Rickard is brought up to speed on the situation. If I explain the condition of Elia I think that he may be amenable to this alternative and I also think we may have leverage if I throw the Pact into the mix._  
_Although, I know his permission means little in the grand scheme of things, having it would stop any upheaval Robert would try to stir up. As well as any backlash from Tywin who will be less than pleased to have Cersei be left out of the equation._  
_My messenger has orders to remain within the city in case Your Grace has any sensitive material that you would like to send back to Dragonstone, or if you choose, you can have a raven sent, though I would caution that the contents should verifiably remain confidential from your end._  
_I will do all that you’ve asked of me once I arrive in Winterfell and before I come back, Lord Rickard will know that House Targaryen will not be undermined and that the Lady Lyanna will remain with us indefinitely, regardless of what His Grace decides in regards to my request for her hand._  
_I will also report directly to the Red Keep upon my return, or should anything of great import come up, I will send a rider to deliver my words directly into your hands.  
  Please pass my love on to my Lady Mother, and to little Viserys as well. _

_Crowned Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen,  
  Lord of Dragonstone. _

  “Summon the High Septon,” he announced, the moment he had finished reading the words that his son had written. A smile curled at the corners of his mouth. That boy had given him everything he needed with this one message.

  It had become harder and harder to gauge Rhaegar’s intentions as of late. His council had worked tirelessly to convince him that Rhaegar had been plotting against him while he was a prisoner to the Darklyn’s. They claimed that he had conspired with Tywin to see him never leave the cells of the Dun Fort. His eyes roamed over the words written in his sons elegant hand once more. These were not the words of a usurper conspiring to steal his throne before his time.

  “I want you to have someone watching every move Pycelle makes from here on out. Every raven he sends will be intercepted. Am I clear?”

  Varys nodded.

  “I want to know everything you know about the situation in Winterfell, and why Lord Rickard has called for my granduncle Aemon to ride south to Winterfell. I want someone to search Pycelle’s chambers. I want to know if he is hiding something.” he thought more about Rhaegar’s words. 

  “You will also find someone to tend the Ravenry. I want to know who goes there, and what ravens are flying and to where. All correspondence is to come straight to myself or to the Queen.”

  The idea of involving Rhaella never sat easily with him. She was weak and she had little of the dragons true fire within her but she was a dragon still and as of right now she was the only person that he knew with certainty could be trusted to know Rhaegar’s words  and to do what is necessary to see their family succeed.

  As for Tywin, he will be sorely mistaken to believe that he will ever have Ser Jaime back. The boy was always destined to reside within the Red Keep, whether or not Tywin chooses to see the truth mattered very little to him. Those twins would be the Lion’s downfall, Tywin should be thankful that he’s allowed him to keep the girl. He considered keeping her in court for a time, but the truth was as plain to see as the emerald of her eyes. She may look like his Joanna, but Tywin had left a mark on her that made Aerys like her naught.

  “I want birds flying to the Eyrie, the Rock and in the North and Stormlands. If you are unable to hear their songs, dear spider, then you’ve outlived your usefulness. See that it does not come to this.” Varys understood that he was being dismissed, so he stood and bowed low before backing to the door.

  “Have Ser Gerold send for the Queen.” he called before Varys left his chamber.

   “Your Grace,” Varys nodded once more and exited. 

  While he waited for Rhaella and Viserys, Aerys let his thoughts wander back to the things that he’d learned over the past week about the Citadel and their way of record keeping, of the Starks and even more of his own kin. He thought about his own dreams, and the voices that told him to prepare. . . of how his subjects whispered behind his back that he was mad… of the girl, Lyanna’s words; ‘History is written by the victor… madness… monsters... abominations… delusions… hallucinations” he looked back over his heirs warning. ‘Keep Pycelle away from the Queen and Viserys.” of all his lost babes…

  A fire was burning within him, a fire unlike the one that served as the “King's Justice”. No, this dire burned away all the fog that kept him in the darkness and all that was left was a certain clarity— one he had not felt since he was a boy.

  A knock at the door announced Rhaella’s arrival. “Enter,” he called.

  His son was the first through the door. 

  Viserys was for the most part a happy boy, the complete opposite of his brother Rhaegar when he was of the same age. Though, while his eldest hardly let his emotions show, and was often noted as stoic and melancholy, Viserys was a never ending wave of emotions, often prone to temper tantrums and fits in one moment, only to be laughing excitedly in the next. 

  He had a feeling that Rhaella was too soft with the child and he intended to start bringing the boy with him more often. 

  Rhaella came sweeping into the room behind Viserys, her hair was worn down, loose and curling at the end in a curtain of waves and ringlets. He could see fading lines on her neck and for a moment he wondered what she had done to herself. She was beautiful, he couldn't deny this if he’d wanted to, but theirs had never been a match born of love. At least not in the traditional sense, not the way he had loved his Joanna, and perhaps that had been the problem all along. He had never forgiven her for not being the one he truly loved.

  “Your Grace,” she greeted formally, taking Viserys in hand before she curtseyed to him. His son following his mother's example and bowing. 

  “Please, come and sit, I have some things I would speak with you about and I thought that Viserys could join us while we are here.” he reached out and invited his son to sit with him and was momentarily taken aback when Viserys shied away from his reach.

  Rhaella gave the child a gentle nudge however, and he came, albeit reluctantly. “Don't be timid boy, I mean you no harm.” he said, hoping to reassure him.

  This whole situation was perplexing— he would get to the bottom of all this, but right now he needed to tell his wife about his discoveries and about Rhaegar. He started by passing Rhaella the scroll from their son. “This came just a while ago from Dragonstone by messenger, not raven.” he told her matter of factly.

  Rhaella sat forward and reached for the parchment and unfurled it. He gave her the time she needed to process the contents. When her eyes looked up and met his, he spoke.

  “I have called for the High Septon. It just so happens that I have been doing my own research and everything that I have found supports Rhaegar’s claim about this girl. House Stark’s lineage is as pure and untainted as ours was when we only married those of Valyrian origin outside of our own line. And what’s more, she’s the only daughter of Lord Rickard and the magic is believed to be passed through the female line. There is a pact to join our Houses,” he went on to explain.

  Rhaella nodded in understanding, “You mean to marry Rhaegar to the Lady Lyanna and our son thinks that this will stop Tywin from lashing out and Robert from acting up?”

  “I don't believe for a moment that our son is convinced of what you suggest. The point is _wife,_ that they will show their true colors the moment I make this announcement. I'm not a fool, I saw the comets when they appeared in the sky almost a moon turn ago. I see them still, every night before I retire to my bed. One as red as the dragon on our banner and the other as blue as ice. There are even whispers that Rhaegar may have spent an entire night alone at the God’s Eye the eve before they departed Harrenhal— which coincidentally also happens to be the night that the comets appeared. I am telling you _dear Rhaella_ , your perfect son is as lustful as his father, and because I understand what it is like to be denied my deepest desire, I will do this favor for my son, because I believe that the girl can do what neither you nor that Dornish whore could do. There is a strength in that girl that does not belong locked away in the frozen north or the stormy castle of Robert Baratheon. I won't allow someone else to claim the girl that should rightfully belong to our son and would have been his had there not been a conspiracy to keep her from my sight.”

  Rhaella looked at him questioningly… “What is that supposed to mean? The girl is hardly five and ten name-days, you wed our son over a year ago, almost two years now. How would knowing about Lyanna Stark have changed this, _dear brother?”_

  He narrowed his eyes. “Careful Rhaella, do not condescend to me.” he warned. “The pact should have been honored long ago, yet when we searched for a potential bride for our son who had Valyrian blood as an attempt to keep his bloodline pure, a girl who has the most powerful non-Valyrian blood in the whole of the Seven Kingdoms was never presented as an option. Cersei Lannister, Elia Martell, Lynesse Hightower Catelyn Tully… all were presented and yet never once was the young Stark girl mentioned. And now Rhaegar writes that our great-uncle Aemon heads for Winterfell to assist in a matter concerning the maester who is rumored to have arranged the match between the Stark girl and Robert without the consent or knowledge of Lord Stark.”

  “So, Pycelle, Zachary, House Hightower, Walys and some unknown parties within the Citadel…” the Queen muttered, her gaze rising to meet his for the first time in quite a while. “What will you do next and how do we keep Dorne from rebelling alongside Tywin and Robert once you make your announcement?”

  He smiled, perhaps a bit wickedly and he passed her another scroll that had arrived with Rhaegars. This one, the first true helpful thing the whore had ever done.

 _My King,_  
_I write you to formally relinquish my claim as Princess Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, if it please you. I regret that I will be unable to fulfill my duty to the realm by providing the crown with future heirs after this one is born._  
_The maester here on Dragonstone has placed me back on bedrest following our return and estimates that I will not be off before the babe is born, provided that I am strong enough to survive. As things stand, the maester says that things could go either way._  
_The crown needs heirs and that is why, no matter what the outcome, I humbly thank his grace for the honor that you bestowed upon me and my kin when you chose me for your son. And I willingly and humbly ask his grace to petition the faith to have our marriage set aside so that the Crowned Prince may take a more fitting bride._  
_My only request of his majesty is that,  should I survive all of this, that I be granted permission to remain beside my children rather than be sent back to Dorne._  
_I swear that I shall cause no trouble nor harm and I will remain an ever faithful servant to his grace and the Prince and his new bride, no matter who you choose._

_Princess Elia Martell of Dragonstone._

  Rhaella looked up, speechless. “How, by the Gods did you manage to get Elia to agree to such a thing?” 

  He could not deny the satisfaction he felt seeing her shock, he only wished that he could claim credit for Elia’s willingness to comply and play her part.

  By all the laws of Westeros, the Doctrine of Exceptionalism included, no man nor woman can petition for the annulment of another man or woman’s union. He could pressure the High Septon, or make a generous donation to the faith to convince them to allow Rhaegar to take a second bride, but nothing short of killing the High Septon could convince him to annul the union between Rhaegar and Elia if one or both parties did not make the request personally. And now he has written consent from both parties.

  “I had no hand in this, _sweet sister._ As I said, this came accompanying the missive Rhaegar sent by messenger. Do you have any objections to the match?”

  “Does it really matter?” she returned too sharply for his taste.

  “No, though I did hope that this news would please you.” he found himself admitting. Why he cared for her pleasure he could not say.

  “You do this for our gain, not her benefit.” it wasn't a question.

  “Does this really surprise you? Everything I have done was to secure our place over the sheep, _sweet sister._ Do my decisions not please you?”

  “Why would it please me to see you publically humiliate a pregnant woman, just to prove a point to the Lords of Westeros, while also feeding into this prophecy nonsense with our son? Surely there is another way to go about all of this that will not include war and upheaval?” his Queen responded.

  “Someday you will understand that there is nothing I wouldn't do, to ensure the supremacy of our House. Even if that means I have to burn the realm to destroy those who oppose us, trust me dear Rhaella, I will do just that.” he vowed.

  Rhaella dropped her eyes in submission, “If you say that this is for the best, Your Grace should not delay. I will of course, trust in your wise judgment. I only care that our son lives a long life and can give the crown many heirs.” she acquiesced.

* * *

###  **The Alpha Wolf:** _M09/ W02/ Y281AC_

* * *

  The next few days went by in a blur, he sent a response and an excuse for his delay to Jon Arryn, though he still wasn't sure how much of a difference his words would make. The Baratheon boy clearly had no intention of dropping the matter, and there was little he could do about it all the way from Winterfell. The most he could hope for would be for Robert to be present when they met at Moat Cailin in the next few moons.

  His thoughts wandered back to the First Keep, where the direwolves had decided to spend most of their time. Once they had opened the Keep up, they had taken up residence almost immediately, further solidifying Lyanna’s request as more of a necessity than a mere extravagance. After that, he ordered the Keep be watched, and that the wolves be allowed to enter and exit at their own pleasure.

  A little over a week later, Benjen arrived just after the start of the second week of the ninth moon, and he couldn't have been more glad to have him back. He had to postpone some of his duties to host Lord Umber that night, in thanks for returning his boy home safely. However, they all departed the following day, and Rickard was able to get Benjen up to speed on current events rather quickly.

  He had received confirmation that the maester from Castle Black had departed for Winterfell almost a fortnight ago, and given his advanced age, Rickard was certain that they were taking it as slow as they needed. By his calculations, he had about a week before maester Aemon arrived.

  It was a shame that he could not keep him, of all the people he would trust to care for Winterfell in such a capacity it would be the old maester. His reputation precedes him no matter how long he had chosen to hide himself away at the wall. For those of them who had been to the Wall as many times over the  years as he had, the maester was as close to a legend as one could get. Maester Aemon had been at the wall even when he was still a boy, traveling there with his father to meet with the old Lord Commander.

  The final report for the First Keep had been delivered to him earlier in the day, and he was looking at it now. Surprisingly it didn't need very much work in order to be made liveable. New furnishings were going to be needed for the living quarters, but the roof was in good shape, and all of the hearths were still in working order.

  Lyanna had not mentioned how many would be in their party, so he went ahead and ordered  all of the rooms be prepared and had them stocked with wood for the fire. He sent for new tubs and linens as well to be brought over to the Keep, and with any luck, by the time Lya and her party make anchor in White Harbor, he would have a better understanding of the size of the party they travel with.

  Nevertheless, the work continued day in and day out, cleaning the old furniture out and bringing in the new, hanging new drapes, sconces, and laying new carpets in the main chambers. The wardrobes were cleaned out and dusted, new candles were stocked, no detail went without attention.

  The old Broken Tower however, had been a much larger project and as such, would not be completed any time soon.

  He sent Lord Umber with an estimate of materials that he would need. The stone would have to be quarried and transported, timber would need to be cut and treated, and then there was the fact that he had absolutely no idea what Lyanna needed the tower for, or what she planned to do with the space, so for now, he tasked his first builder with cleaning and clearing the structure and providing him with an estimate for materials and the cost to repair. Any modifications past that, would have to wait for Lyanna’s instruction. For now they had plenty of room to accommodate the people who would be arriving in the next weeks.

  A few nights before Aemon arrived, he went in search of Benjen. The lad had been home almost a week but aside from meals, and a discussion about his duties now that he was home, they had not had much of an opportunity to catch up. Nor had he the chance to introduce Bejen to the direwolves, who had been absent due to all the activity going on in the castle.

  He found the boy in the Godswood, hiding up in the branches of the weirwood. A place that was an old haunt of his two youngest pups, whenever one or both of them would go missing, the first place he looked was always here. His young pup was most likely missing Lya…

  “I thought I may find you here…” he called out, causing Ben to startle. “Would you care to share your thoughts?”

  “Father, I'm sorry. Were you looking for me for something?” Benjen replied, while making to climb down from his place within the branches of the heart tree. He didn't mind that Ben was up there, but he didn't stop him from coming down regardless. Talking would be much easier if he could look in his son’s eyes, man to man.

  “I only came to spend some time with you, we’ve hardly had a moment to speak since you returned, and with all the things going on around here, I thought that this might be a good time to do just that.”

  Benjen hopped down from the lowest branch and came to stand before him. His boy had grown these past few moons, soon he too would be a man grown and they would have to come up with a plan for his future.

  Ben screwed his face up in thought… “What exactly _is_ going on around here?” he asked for the first time since arriving home.

  Rickard sighed heavily, “So much, son.” he confessed, though he had something in mind for the two of them so he just went ahead and asked. “Would you like to take a ride with me?”

  Seeing how Blizzard had still not returned, he thought that he might take Ben out to meet the pack. Their songs could still be heard from within the castle walls, they had even migrated closer, now that he had made contact that first night, though the main group still preferred to stay within the safety of the Wolfs Wood.

  Benjen nodded eagerly, and they set off in the direction of the Hunters Gate where he had two mounts already prepared. “We won't be gone long, and we’ll talk while we ride.” He told Benjen, who looked like he had just gotten caught sword fighting with Lyanna again.

  He chuckled thinking of the memory, “Be at ease son, I only wish to catch up with you. I’d very much like to hear about your trip, and maybe about what has you seeking refuge in the Godswood… Hmm?”

  Benjen relaxed after that, and they both mounted up and started toward the Wolfs Wood. “As you can see, Lyanna was correct about maester Walys,” he began. . .

  “I've had him detained since before Brandons raven arrived from Harrenhall. There was a rider who had come, shortly after the three of you departed to go South carrying a message from the Crowned Prince.”

  Understanding crossed Ben’s features at the mention of Prince Rhaegar and to his relief, Benjen did not react adversely to the information. Rickard decided to take that for a good sign and continued on with his tale. And Ben only stopped to interrupt him when he had something to add that would fill in the blanks from his end.

  “So, after I discovered the proof of Walys deceit, I placed him under guard and I sent an Honor Guard to the Wall to bring maester Aemon Targaryen here to help me get these matters settled. The only way that the Mad King won't hold me or all of you responsible for the Citadels duplicity and charge me or us with conspiring with the Lannisters and Hightowers is if we turn this matter over to the crown and or, to someone that the crown can trust who is also associated with the Citadel. That is why I’ve asked Aemon to come to Winterfell.”

  Benjen stayed silent for a time, obviously considering everything that he had learned. Eventually, his sons blue-grey eyes looked up and met the steel-grey of his own and he spoke. “For what it's worth, I think you’ve acted wisely in this Father. The Prince is a good man, from what I know of him. But his father is another matter. He is suspicious of everyone and everything, except perhaps Lyanna…”

  This caught his attention immediately, “Why is Lyanna an exception to this rule?”

  Benjen looked back at him and gave a wolfish grin that would have put even Brandon to shame. _Perhaps he has more than two with the wolfs blood…_

  “Okay, I'll tell you, but you should probably wait for a better explanation from Lya and the Prince, or Howland.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, just tell me what you can,” he requested once more.

  “Well, firstly, the King is not a sane man, though for the most part, he is just simply cruel and it seems like cruelty equates to power to the King. Prince Rhaegar said that his behavior became more extreme after Duskendale, but Howland says that Duskendale simply pushed the King past his limit. That the start of it all came after the death of his grandfather King Aegon IV. That some magic ritual went wrong and it left an imprint on their bloodline. That there was no place for all that magic and sacrifice to go, so it attached itself to the land that now holds Summerhall and to the King’s own bloodline as well.” 

  He had questions, how does this affect the Prince, why is Howland Reed so knowledgeable about all of this? But he asked neither, instead he nodded for Ben to continue.

  “I personally did not witness Lyanna’s interaction with the King because she had been invited to sit in the royal box by Princess Elia and Lady Ashara on the day that Brandon faced the Prince in the joust. I only know that Lyanna was seated beside the Princess, when King Aerys called for her  to come sit beside him in the place that was reserved for the Prince for the duration of the joust that day. After, I heard Howland explain to Lyanna that she has a gift, an ability to temper the flames that consume the King temporarily. She can't cure him per se, but he seems to be more cognitively aware when she is around. Though, that does not necessarily equate to kindness,” Benjen finished his story.

   _Interesting… very interesting…_

They were finally approaching the tree line, “We’ll dismount here and go the rest of the way on foot.”

  Benjen gave him a curious look, “I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard the wolves from inside Winterfell, just as I have.” 

  He chuckled, his son obviously thought him mad. “Aye, why do you think we’ve come? Relax my son, I came out here on my own while you were away, save for a handful of men armed with crossbows that ended up not being necessary. All at the insistence of Lyanna and Brandon. Now, would I be standing here with you now if they had chosen to attack?”

  “I suppose not,” Benjen relaxed some.

  “Stay with me son, and you will see what all the fuss is about soon enough.” He took the lead, having no idea where the pack would be, but he figured if they walked in a straight line, eventually their paths would intersect.

  The pack was huge and seemed to grow in size by the day, of this he was almost certain. Thankfully, the wolves weren’t the only wildlife that had been making the journey and as such, regular game had not diminished. Though he wasn’t sure how long that fortune would remain on their side, or how long until the game started moving further South, taking the wolves with them. 

  Yet another issue that he would need to look into soon. When he heard Benjen’s footsteps behind him, he asked his next question, one only his youngest son could answer. “What are your thoughts about the Prince, and how did Lyanna handle everything?”

  Ben seemed to consider the question before he answered. “Hmm, the Prince is kind and he plays the harp and sings too. That’s the first thing about him that Lyanna noticed, and the first time I knew that she liked him. He made her cry at the feast on the first night before the tourney started with a single song. Can you believe it? Lyanna never cries!!!”

  Rickard could picture it now, “I suppose you reacted similarly at the time?” he mused. 

  “Aye, and she dumped her goblet of wine over my head and called me stupid—,” Rickard chanced a glance back at his boy to see his face. He must have realized that he was about to tell on his sister, because his face had turned as red as a beet. 

  “Relax Ben, I can hardly discipline the Princess consort of the Seven Kingdoms,” he laughed, just picturing such a scene. 

  “Um, actually she’s the Princess consort, and the Queen of Winter.” Benjen declared in a voice that sounded more sure than the one he had spoken in moments before. 

  He thought about his son’s words… “I suppose she would be the first Queen of Winter in almost three-hundred years, it’s a shame she won’t be ruling from Winterfell.”

  Benjen shifted uncomfortably… “No father, Rhaegar crowned her with a circlet of winter roses after defeating all of his challengers in a rare show of strength. He named her his Queen of Love and Beauty, but they had already sealed their bond and joined their marks. He crowned her his Queen of Winter, he made her his equal. And if that doesn’t convince you, the night they wed, he stole her under the cover of darkness while the Thief was visible within the Moonmaid. He wed her in the Old Way, in the way of the Free Folk and then he wed her beneath the largest Weirwood I’ve ever seen in the ways of the First Men who live south of the Wall, and once more in the ways of the Seven.”

  Rickard was shocked, not only because of what his son was telling him, but because of the fact that Benjen knew any of this in the first place. “How do you—,”

  Another wolffish grin from Benjen stopped him mid question, “Howland Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch was at the tournament. He came after he left the Isle of Faces where he had been through the winter. He spent an entire season with the Greenmen, he said the trees told him to go.”

  “The trees speak, and Lord Reed understands?” He needed to be clear about what Benjen was telling him. 

  “Aye, it’s in their blood. The Crannogmen have magic that they inherited from their kin, the Greenmen and the Children. The same blood as the Marsh Kings of old. We also have these gifts, though they do not present themselves as strongly in us. We have other magics in our blood too, at least that’s what I’ve learned since all this began.”

  So many questions… but one stood out more prominently than the rest. “And when did all of this begin?” He needed to know how far back all of this went. How long his children had been keeping secrets such as these from him. 

  “Well, I helped Lyanna a few times in the library before we went South, but she never told me why we were researching. She just promised me that she would let me have her dessert if I helped her.” Benjen shrugged, “So I did.”

  “Aye, I suppose I may have as well.” He confessed, hoping Ben would feel comfortable enough to continue, which he did.

  “The rest of it all came once Howland showed up, and Ned had completed his bond with Ashara.”

  “Did Lord Howland know who Lyanna shared her mark with?” He was curious about this mysterious young Lord.

  “He did, but he did not inform Lyanna. He told her that she would have to find him on her own, and that he would answer all of her questions once all parties involved were present.” Rickard nodded.

  “It was Ned who figured it out. Once Brandon received your message, that’s when the truth came out about the marks and Ned and Ashara’s bond. Afterward, we all met with the Prince and his kingsguard, Ser Arthur, in the Godswood where Howland explained the situation and the history. But Lyanna didn’t want to do something just because the mark had chosen her. Instead she refused the bond, and made the Prince court her through his actions. She made sure that he earned her favor, though never did she allow him to touch her.”

  “Why is that? Surely in order to court someone during a public event dancing is required among all other manner of courtly gestures.”

  “Yes, but if they had touched, then they would have sealed the bond. And I've already told you, Lyanna refused to seal the bond with the Prince until he proved himself worthy of her. So the Prince won a tourney for her, he kept his distance, he helped to keep Robert occupied when she was around and he sang her songs in the middle of our camp, while she sat inside of her tent more or less. I'm sure there are many other things that I can't think of right now, but the main thing that earned her trust was when she realized that he did not care that she was unlike every other southern Lady, that she would rather wear breeches and a tunic or a riding dress in place of an actual dress. That she would rather wield a sword and bow over a sewing needle or a harp. He thinks her similar to Queen Visenya and promised that he would never seek to suppress her, and that he would only wish to see her safe and happy. It's all very romantic, but I can't help but wish that she would have made him wait longer.” he finally confessed the truth that had been weighing on him.

  “Ah, now we are getting to the root of the problem… I have a suspicion that you are missing your twin, are you not?” He always referred to them as such, even though Lya was the eldest of the two.

  Benjen sighed and Rickard noticed his son’s head hang down a bit lower than it had been a moment before. “She’s gone, and now it's just me until you come back after Bran’s wedding, and then he’ll be married too. I feel like there is no place for me anymore. I thought that Lya would at least have until she was six and ten, but then the King took her and she wanted to go anyway.” his son let out a silent sob, causing him to halt his steps and pull his youngest pup into an embrace. Benjen wrapped his arms around him and buried himself into his chest. Both shocked at the rare display of affection from his father and relieved to have it all the same.

  “Hey now, listen to me… Lyanna is on her way here as we speak. She sails for White Harbor at this very moment, as does your brother Ned and his Lady wife Ashara. What do you think all that fuss with the First Keep is all about?” I suspect she should be arriving within the moon cycle. As for the rest of it, you are a Stark of Winterfell, your place is with the pack, no matter what happens with Lyanna, Brandon or Ned. We don't have to make a decision right now about what comes next for you, whether you would like to go and foster with another Lord or become a squire in the south for some Knight, maybe even a Kingsguard…” he left the rest unsaid, Benjen could draw his own conclusions.

  Just like he knew he would, Ben looked up and him when he mentioned squiring and he beamed at him. “Do you mean it?”

  “It's possible… but right now I need for you to be quiet for just a moment,” he told Ben, but his eyes were searching the area around them. He released his son and stepped back, motioning for him to remain silent. When Ben nodded, Rickard turned around in a slow circle and gave a low whistle.

  They were close… Whenever his companion was near, he felt a prickle down his spine, and he felt that now. They waited in silence for a few moments before he heard the first rustle of dried leaves on the forest floor, and then some more, before a pair of green eyes was seen staring back at him.

  Benjen stepped forward the moment he realized what he was seeing. “By the Gods, it's true…” his  blue-grey eyes locked on Blizzards jade green orbs.

  “Aye, this one I called Blizzard, there are two others that come and go alongside this one but I can't promise that they will come right now,” at that, the direwolf stepped forward, out of the shadows and walked right up to Benjen to sniff him. Once he was apparently satisfied with what he found, he nudged Benjen in the chest with his snout. Which, as it happened, was exactly what Ben needed to break him out of his melancholy.

  “Does he belong to you?” Benjen asked, voice full of wonder.

  Rickard shook his head, “Nay, he is not mine son. He belongs to his pack, he is a direwolf, not a pet. However, they are as much a part of us, as we are a part of each other, therefore as long as they aren’t attacking the villages and our smallfolk or thinning our herds, they are welcomed to the Wolfs Wood and by extension, Winterfell. The three of them typically come and go as they please. I believe they are waiting for Lyanna to arrive. The rest have yet to venture out of the safety of the forest. As for the smallfolk, I have sent out dispatch to the surrounding villages and towns, warning them to stay out of the forest until we have a better understanding of their behaviors, and even more so, of their numbers.”

  When he was done speaking, Blizzard moved away from Benjen and brushed his flank up against Rickard before setting off back in the direction of the castle. “Come my son, let us be on our way.”

   On the way back, they spoke some more about the tourney and the infamous Lord Howland Reed, a man  with whom Benjen seemed quite inspired by. If he were being honest, he too was curious about this young Lord that he had never met before. 

  “Benjen, if you wouldn't mind, I could use your assistance when maester Aemon arrives. With you being the last person to see the Prince, I’m sure he would greatly appreciate your company.”

  He didn't hesitate responding, “Of course Father, it would be an honor to assist, though am I to sit with him the entire time he is here?”

  “Nay, I only ask that you assist him to and from his chambers and indulge him, should he require some company when your duties permit, of course.”

  Ben stood a little straighter, “Very well, Father. You have my word.” he vowed.

  Rickard smiled brightly at his pup. “Good lad.  And Ben, about Lyanna. You should never fear that she would ever choose to leave you behind of her own will. And never worry that she would cast you aside or stay away if she possessed the means to see you. She would cross leagues in a day for you if she could. Try to remember that the next time you’re feeling down, hmm?”

  Ben straightened his shoulders and looked him in the eyes, “I will, I promise. And I know what you say is the truth, I just miss her.” They traveled back to the castle in the shadow of Blizzards massive form, and they spoke some more about their time away and his time on the road with the GreatJon.

* * *

###  **The Quiet-Wolf:** _M09/ W02/ Y281AC_

* * *

  The sky was slightly overcast on the morning that they set sail from Dragonstone. Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar had packed nearly the entire Vault by the look of the number of trunks that had been tucked into their cabin.

  He had wanted to tell them that it was a silly idea, considering that once they got to Winterfell and found the gate, they could just cross the distance in moments to get back to the chamber on Dragonstone. In the end, he chose silence. The sooner that they were packed and the ship set sail, the sooner they would be back in the North.

  Ned found that he did not mind the South so much, especially after being raised in the Eyrie for a good portion of his life, but after Harrenhal he wasn't able to stop his nerves from being constantly on edge, and the need to go home never lessened.

  They had set sail almost ten days past and they were just now passing the Fingers. Ser Arthur and Prince Rhaegar had estimated that they would arrive in White Harbor within the sennight, so Ned had kept himself busy, training beside Oswell and the Prince early in the morning, while Lyanna spent time with Arthur across the ship, learning how to properly wield the sword that Arthur had commissioned for her.

  He could hear his father's voice now; _“A Lady has no business wielding a sword.”_ Ned snorted. Well, he wouldn't have such an easy time convincing the Prince of that, and honestly he was happy for Lyanna. Never in a million years had he ever believed that Lyanna would be happily married to a man who not only accepted her unencumbered nature, but also embrace it and work to nurture it to the best of his abilities.

   —Well, his father would have quite a surprise in store for him if he hoped to sway the Prince and quite another shock if he thought to command a Queen of Winter.

  Changes were coming, along with winter. Especially in the North, and this feeling in his gut told him that his father would need him, he would need all of them when the time comes.

  His thoughts pivoted toward his mate, who was currently asleep beside him. She was so fierce, his beautiful falling star, with her sun kissed skin and haunting violet eyes. He couldn't help but hope that the Gods would bless them with sons and daughters that took her features.

  Ever since their voyage had begun, he had felt bombarded by the thoughts of children. Not just his own children, but sometimes Lya’s and Brandons as well, sometimes even Benjen would have one or two. Somehow his thoughts eventually turned to his dreams and every one was like a warning to him.

  He dreamt of a battle, of Robert alone and cornered on all sides and then he dreamt of the Trident and of two great hosts clashing against one another. Banners of Houses Arryn, Martell, Baratheon, Tully, Stark and Targaryen among the many. He dreamt that he married a maid with hair as auburn as the sun’s fire. And then of Prince Rhaegar lying dead in the bloody waters of the Trident, his chest caved in. Above him stood a demon, so tall that he blotted out the sun, crowned by the antlers of a great stag.

  He had tried telling himself that this was all a dream, but he could never manage to rouse himself from his slumber and each night, as they drew closer to White Harbor, a new set of dreams would be added to the ones that he’d had the previous nights.

  Lyanna dying in a bed of blood; this one haunted him the most. His beautiful sister, gone before her time, consumed by pain and grief. He saw her boy, dark hair and eyes who he had kept as his own, a silver girl with silver-blue eyes like Benjen that went North and the third one, the one Lyanna gave her life for, silver and amethyst sent to the South and then eventually East.

  He saw his best friend seated on the iron throne, three bodies laid at the foot of the iron monstrosity… _‘I see no babes, I see only Dragonspawn!’_ He saw that same man standing beside a blushing lioness inside the Great Sept of Baylor, two golden crowns adorning their heads—. 

  This dream bothered him still, for why crown Robert if Rhaegar died with a legal heir? He got no answers to these questions, only more puzzle pieces to add to the ever growing picture.

  He saw Winterfell and within the castle grounds he saw children; two boys, one dark of hair that reminded him of himself as a boy, and another with auburn hair. They were both practicing with swords while an elder Ser Rodrick watched on and gave instructions. The boys were close in age and he could tell that they shared a fondness for one another. But when the dark haired boy would land a hit and Ser Rodrick would give praise, he couldn't help but notice how the boy would shy away and search his surroundings before accepting any form of positive reinforcement. Once the boys eyes found the blue eyes of the auburn haired woman Ned had dreamt of marrying, he understood that the woman was the reason that Lyanna’s boy reacted thus.

  In his dream he had wanted to go to the boy and comfort him but he was simply there to observe, he had realized this early on. A part of him understood that what he was seeing was not a guarantee, as he was already married to Ashara and if his suspicions were correct, this woman was Catelyn Tully, his brothers betrothed. But try though he may, Brandon was never able to be found. How he had ended up as the Lord of Winterfell and married to his brothers intended was beyond him.

  He dreamed of a little girl, dark hair and deep grey eyes like Lyanna, sitting beside Lyanna’s boy in the Godswood. They looked like twins, the two of them, so close in appearance they were. He could tell that the little girl had been crying and Lya’s boy was trying to comfort her. He realized while watching them that they were two misfits in their own home, two misfits who found solace in each other’s company and that is when he realized that Lya’s boy behaved like an outcast.

  “You are beautiful, little sister, don't let anyone tell you differently. They’re all just mad because you look more Stark than the rest of them. Lady Stark shouldn’t let them treat you any differently than she would expect for her precious Sansa to be treated.”

  In another sequence, he watched as he and an older version of Lya’s boy said their goodbyes as Ned prepared to ride South, down the King’s Road, Lyanna’s boy was riding North with his brother Benjen to the Wall.

  “There’s great honor serving in the Night’s Watch, the Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years. And you may not have my name, but you have my blood.” he told the boy that he had raised as his own almost since the time of his birth. “Is my mother alive? Does she know about me, where I am, where I'm going, does she care?” Lyanna’s boy asked the older version of himself. The answer was a simple one, “Yes, of course she knows.” Or at least that should have been the answer, and he wanted to shout it then and there. But instead, this alternate version of himself looked away, and down before he answered— a lie was coming, that was always his tell. “Next time we see each other, we’ll talk about your mother, hmm? I promise.” —A half truth, he was disgusted with himself. Would he truly deny that boy his happiness?

  The next time he dreamt, he realized what had happened. He had ridden South with Robert, he had been named as Hand of the King, only he knew that this wasn't right, his nephew was the rightful king, and the man he had once thought of as a brother was a Usurper to his throne, as well as a madman who had laughed at the sight of innocent babes that had been butchered, just to sate his bloodlust. He had brought his daughters with him, the one that looked like a miniature version of Catelyn and the one that looked like she was all Stark. The younger one stayed to herself, and practiced her swordsmanship every time she had the chance, in hopes that one day she would be able to wield a skinny blade that she had kept hidden in one of her trunks that had traveled with her to King’s Landing. The Tully girl made no effort to be close with her sister and it didn't take a maester to point out why. The two were as alike as summer and winter, one touched by the Light of the Seven while the other was blessed by the Old Gods themselves.

  He saw the two girls again, but they had only been in his dreams _together_ this one last time…

  The child of summer stood beside Cersei Lannister and a boy who looked like a younger version of her twin, Ser Jaime. His winter child stood further out, hidden amidst the crowd, sticking to the shadows. And then his head was parted from his shoulders and all he could see were birds taking flight and all he could hear were the screams of his summer child. He saw his little one hiding among the common folk, traveling with a group of men who were heading North. He recognized their garb, the one leading them wore the blacks of the Night’s Watch. He saw his Tully girl being abused and Lya’s boy lying in a pool of his own blood with a sign that read ‘ _Traitor’_ just in front of where he had been attacked—, or was it betrayed? And then he saw his little girl once more, as she traded away her identity for the gift of a shifting face.

  He couldn’t wait to get off this ship, he couldn’t take another night of this. The guilt of what could be was eating him up on the inside. And he felt like being on the water played a part in whatever it was that had been troubling him. 

  It was a few days before they were expected to dock that he found some time to speak with Howland about his dreams. He wasn’t sure who else to speak to about everything, but he had remembered that Howland mentioned to the prince about there being multiple timeline variations, and he thought that maybe the young Lord would be better suited to helping him understand…

  After telling Howland everything he could recall, his friend leaned back in contemplation. “I did not expect this to happen… as you are aware, not all is as it seems. Yes, there is another timeline that was observed by the Three-eyed Raven and in this timeline some of what you have seen came to pass, while some of it could simply be a variation of what could have come to pass. I am not sure why you are being given glimpses of what could be when you are obviously living a different timeline than the one you witnessed.” 

  It’s what he suspected, but the truth was he wasn’t worried about the children, or Catelyn. No, what bothered him was Lya’s boy and how he ended up at the Wall while the man who he named his brother in everything but blood ended up sitting on the throne that should have belonged to his nephew by right...

  The only explanation that he could come up with is that a portion of this could still come to pass. A version where Robert chooses war with his now good-brother over acceptance that Lyanna chose Rhaegar over him. Something that deep down, Ned found he felt an obligation to prevent.  He wasn't sure how he was going to accomplish this, or when he would have the chance to speak with Robert again but he would do this. Not just for Lyanna and Rhaegar, but for his nephew, and his two nieces that Lya died for, for the two girls who were separated from their only kin and were never reunited before their brother was murdered, alone and in the cold. Otherwise, how could he ever look Lya in the face again? How could he stand beside her in this life, knowing now how badly he had failed her in the last?

  And how could he look at his mate knowing that he hadn’t even tried to find a way to keep them together? He looked at her now, sitting across the room laughing with Lyanna and Arthur. She had no idea about any of this, none of them did save Howland and no matter how much he wanted to keep this from her, he knew he could not. He knew that if he did, he would be closing off any chance he had of stopping all of this from happening. He could not behave like a lone wolf, not here, not now, not ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a month since my last update and now I'm back. I want you all to know that I have not been idle, I have recently been brought on to help with another fic 'Final Crown of Winter Roses' which is a Jonrya fic for those of you who are interested. The story is so good, and it is so fun to work on, so while the chapter length is not as long as Ink Parchment Quill, it is definitely worth checking out. Also, Wxntxr_chxld, is a young author who has a ton of talent and I am confident you all will love the world she has created.
> 
> So, I wanted to address Aerys. Yes, I know that he seems quite lucid in this segment and I did that for a reason. Aerys may be touched by madness, but I find that madness can translate differently in certain situations. Lyanna has given Aerys a break from the proverbial storm and because of this, he has been able to see things more clearly. He is not an idiot, he is for the most part irrational, and he suffers from extreme PTSD. As such he sees enemies everywhere, yet when Lyanna is able to clear the static noise from his mind, he is actually quite cunning, he is not forgetful, we have no evidence to suggest such a thing. But we do know that he is obsessed with establishing the supremacy of his House.  
> I went back and forth about Aerys segment but in the end, I realize that a madman has no idea that he is truly mad... And Aerys knows that he is affected most of the time, but ever since he met Lyanna he has been able to see that things have been far different than he had been led to believe.  
> Dont worry, there is no cure for being a cunt, and Aerys has cornered the market in the art.
> 
> Dont forget to leave me your feedback and kudos if you havent already.


	24. Winter Winds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aemon finally arrived in Winterfell,  
> Lyanna and Rhaegar revisit their last days on Dragonstone,  
> Rickard prepares, and the Direwolves make an appearance.  
> Later on we visit Riverrun to check in with Brandon, Kings Landing to find out what Rhaella and co. are up to.  
> And then we go back north to deal with homecomings, interrogations and treasure hunts.  
> This chapter is packed full of content and is over 64k words. So I recommend sitting down to read this when you have a good chunk of time.  
> Make sure you let me know what you think in the comments!  
> Lastly, I need to impress upon my readers a TRIGGER WARNING!!! for Rhaella’s final segment. We did not get too graphic but the intent is there. We all know her life beside Aerys was not one of comfort or care, and even though I have a happy ending in sight for Rhaella, her story will try to mirror canon for as long as possible.

* * *

**The Knowing One**

* * *

  The journey south had been long, though not without some measure of comfort. Lord Rickard had spared no expense, even going as far as having a carriage brought from Last Hearth to carry him forth from Castle Black unto Winterfell. 

  He had traveled with a decent sized party, and every time they neared a small holdfast or village, someone always had a room available for him to stay in, allowing for his companions to get out of the harsh elements. 

  From what he could see, the Lord Rickard was well loved by his people, and admired by most of the men at the Watch, and that included the current Lord Commander Qorgyle, who had seen the numbers in the watch rise during Lord Rickard's time as Warden of the North. 

  It was no secret that the Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years, for some the Wall was as much theirs as it was the Realms. Just another extension of their legacy, and in his opinion an extension of their true power. If the legends were true, and Aemon believed that they were… it was a Stark that raised the Wall from it's foundation into one of the Nine wonders of the Known World. And it was a Stark that had used blood and weirwood and magic to create the only thing that has managed to protect Westeros from what lies beyond. 

  People forget the history of the world, stories and written word eventually become lore rather than facts and eventually truths become forgotten, even in a land where the people pride themselves on their long memory. But Aemon knew first hand the truth about the Wall, he was living proof that the Wall both blocked magic and enhanced it. 

  Ice preserves… perhaps this same magic existed here in Winterfell too. So many questions that require answers, answers that he suspected he would find at the end of this journey, once he was finally within the ancient stone walls of Winterfell.

  They were about five days away from the seat of the ancient Winter Kings when the first signs of wolves were noticed. He had heard from the reports that he received while he was still at the Wall of Direwolves that had returned South. So he wasn’t at all worried when he’d heard the first signs of them coming from within the forest. 

  They never left the natural boundary that separated the Wolf’s Wood from the King's Road, but they never strayed far from the boundary either. His eye sight may be failing him, but his senses were as sharp as they ever were and he knew that the wolves meant him no harm, they were simply there to keep him company as he journeyed South from the Wall. If he was correct in his assumption, he suspected his kin had sent them. 

  Lord Brynden had been doing a great many things as of late that were not common practice for him. Including the letter he had received from deep within the frozen north, or the package that had shown up for him with instructions to deliver it to the Prince and his Bride as a wedding gift. Not to mention the gift that he carried on his own that he had been holding on to since Bloodraven abandoned his place at the Wall to travel to the Singers so that he could learn to see better. 

  He had yet to regret his decision to abdicate in favor of his little brother. But recently he had wondered if he best served the realm from the Wall, or whether he would be better suited to retire back to King's Landing with his Great-Nephew and niece and their children. Or if  perhaps he was better suited to serve beside the Warden of the North…. alas, the vows of the Watch are for life, as are his vows to the Citadel and nothing short of a royal pardon would convince either faction to give up their claim on him. He would have plenty of time to ponder these matters over the next few weeks, and mayhap he could even find time to run this thought by his great-great-nephew. 

  When his carriage was finally within the yard of Winterfell, he breathed out a deep sigh. It had been over a decade since he had made a journey this long. He didn’t have much time to collect himself before the carriage door swung open to reveal a man of medium height with deep grey eyes and dark hair. 

  Lord Rickard looked much the same since the last time he had seen him, upon one of his many visits with his heir to the Wall and even before that when he came with his own father to survey the needs of the Watch. In spite of what the southern six kingdoms thought of the North and its people, they were a dutiful lot whose only indulgence was winter preparedness. Of the great houses in Westeros, only House Stark and their bannermen fulfilled their duties by the Watch. For the rest of the Realm, the Wall was only a place fit to take in criminals or those that cost more to care for than they were able to contribute, which in turn fell back upon the lords of the North to support.

  It was a broken system, one that wasn’t quite so broken when the Starks were still the King's of Winter and with any luck, now that their future Queen was not just a Northerner, but a Stark of Winterfell and a marked one at that, he had hope that things would start to change. The Wall was too big for just one kingdom to maintain, and it had fallen too long into disrepair. 

  Beside Lord Rickard stood a young boy who was no more than four and ten name days. He had the Stark look but with blue-grey eyes much like his Lord Father, though his face was longer, and his features were much sharper. If he had to guess, this had to be the youngest Stark, Benjen.

  After introductions were made, the Lord of Winterfell informed him that his young son would be his escort around the grounds and would be available to him once his duties were seen to each day. The boy looked positively thrilled to assist him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at his energy. Eventually, Benjen agreed to show him to the chambers that had been assigned to him and the two of them set off toward the Maesters Tower. 

  On the way, he decided to ask about the wolves and whether or not they had made contact, and to his surprise Benjen confirmed that there were three Direwolves currently coming and going from the castle, but he was sure to reassure him that they would not attack him if he happened to be out and they were close by. 

  By the time the young Lordling had finished his tale, they had arrived outside the tower and Benjen quickly opened the way for him to enter. Unlike his tower at Castle Black, the Maesters Tower was spacious and well cared for. There was an adequate hearth that had no problem lending heat to the space. The sleeping chambers were adjacent to the solar where he had his personal belongings placed. He knew right away that he would be comfortable here. 

  Before departing, Benjen informed him that he would be happy to escort him around the castle and help him with anything that he had need of. 

* * *

**The She-Wolf**

* * *

  She was flying again, this time over an island that she now recognized by sight— Dragonstone. The waves of the blackwater crashed over the stony beach below the islands holdfast, and she could smell the salt coming off the water, as the men from the port town began moving about, readying themselves for another busy day pulling in the Salt that would be treated and shipped off for distribution. 

  Every now and again she would feel the wind switch directions and she would dive with determined focus toward the ever churning waters below before she would reach out with her talons and snatch her prey from the icy waters and then up, in search of a safe place to perch while she enjoyed her prize. 

  She immediately recognized the balcony that she’d chosen as the one outside of her window and she willed her winged friend to call to her. 

Inside her chamber she felt Rhaegar stir beside her, pulling her from her sleep. “Did you hear that?” His voice was groggy and she knew that it was still rather early. 

  She rolled over and kissed him gently. “Worry not, I have an idea of what it was.” She slid from bed, pushing his seeking hands aside with a chuckle. Her husband had no issue with being needy in her presence. However, typically it was her that she found him in constant need of. 

  Not that she would complain, never had she dare imagine a marriage such as theirs. She was still rather young when her Lady mother departed, and though she could still recall small gestures, such as the way her father would reach out and tuck away a stray lock of hair behind her ear just so that he could be close to her without causing a stir.

  Or the hours he would spend alone with her in the Godswood, only to come back with secret smiles they thought her and her brothers never saw. Mayhap the boys didn’t see, but Lyanna saw almost everything. Even if she had been too young to understand at the time. They said that her father and her mother were a love match and that alone was rare enough for people of their birth and station but thinking back on it now, she supposed it was true. 

  “I’ll be right back,” she whispered once more before moving toward the balcony doors. When she got there, she paused not wanting to startle her winged companion if she was in fact still outside. 

  At first she saw nothing, so she pushed on the latch and cracked the door that opened onto the balcony. 

Immediately she was assaulted by the salty morning air, but she couldn’t deny it's appeal either. The cool kiss of the morning mist on her skin was a comfort after a night laying beside the furnace that was her husband. 

  It wasn’t until she stepped further out onto the balcony that she came face to face with the winged friend she had dreamed of flying with. Though, from memory she couldn’t put a name to it. Some type of eagle to be sure, definitely a bird of prey but one she’d never seen in the North. 

  The bird looked at her knowingly, as if it had been waiting on her an eternity. It’s eyes were a deep shade of grey or black she couldn’t be sure, but from what she could remember of their flight, there was little that they did not see. Her feathers were the color of thunderclouds and she was adorned by a crest of feathers that sat atop her head like a crown. 

  Fitting… she thought.

  Lyanna approached warily, though a part of her knew that she had to do this. “Hello girl, aren’t you stunning?” She greeted. Not really sure what the proper protocol for greeting a predator was. 

  The bird cocked her head to the side, as if it was appraising her. Not really knowing what to do, Lyanna mimicked its movements and then stepped closer. The wind ruffled her sleeping gown, blowing the material away from her body, causing the material to cling to her breasts and abdomen. The eagle straightened her spine, and spread her wings, mimicking the movements of her gown and Lyanna chuckled, earning something akin to a croon from the eagle.

  On instinct, Lyanna reached for it—, only this time, she tried with her mind. She had read enough books in the library that explain in great detail what a skin-changer is believed to be capable of and on another level, of what wargs are capable of. Lyanna knew now that she was both, she had known about her gift as a warg since Harrenhal. But she had known for far longer about her ability to skin-change. Ever since she was gifted Winter she had known, when they were together they were one mind, one body, one spirit. 

  The eagle, having felt her gentle brush inclined her head, and Lyanna closed the distance and brushed her hand gently over her head crest. She was absolutely beautiful. The underside of her feathers appeared to be as white as snow, but the tips were a deep grey that could rival a thundercloud. There was black mixed in on the wingtips but she was twice the size of any eagle she had ever seen in her life. Something told her it was because these birds had never existed in the North before. Knowing that she may never have met her if she hadn’t come south saddened her some, she couldn’t help but wonder what else she would have given up if her path had been a different one.

  She heard the curtains slide aside and then Rhaegar sucked in a breath. “Lyanna?” He questioned warily. 

 “Easy girl, it’s only Rhaegar.” Lyanna reassured her friend, reaching back to beckon him forward. 

“Don’t move too quickly, we’ve just made contact for the first time, she might scare.” She warned, as Rhaegar approached. 

“A Harpy Eagle? Lyanna these birds are more common near the Rainwood, and around Summerhall, what on earth is she doing here?” Rhaegar questioned. 

   _A Harpy Eagle… so that’s why I’ve never seen one like this before._

  Lyanna hummed in response, while her newly found friend continued to cluck in contentment, though never once did she stop watching Rhaegar. 

  “What shall you call her?” He asked. 

  She hadn’t considered naming her in truth, she wasn’t sure how long they would be able to maintain their bond once she went North. However, now that he’d brought it up, all she could think of was what flying had been like in comparison to riding with Winter or running with her wolf, whomever her wolf was, but both Winter and her Direwolf were creatures of the earth, bound to live their lives on the ground. This eagle however, was of the air, she lived her life soaring through the clouds, ruling her kingdom from high above… 

  “Sky.” She decided all at once, turning to look at her husband for the first time since he joined her. His hair was tousled from sleep, but he was still the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, his eyes were still half lidded as if he were still trying to wake up. 

“What’s the word for Sky in High Valyrian?” She asked. 

  “Jēdar,” he responded almost without hesitation. The language was as familiar to him as the common tongue, perhaps moreso. 

  “Jēdar…” she let the word roll over her tongue, getting a feel for it… she liked it, but it wasn’t really up to her. So Lyanna turned back to her friend who was still watching her with interest. 

  “What do you say, Jēdar?” She asked and the eagle cocked her head to the side in response. “Or shall I simply call you Sky?” The same response followed, as if the giant bird was actually considering the question. 

  Rhaegar stepped up beside her and murmured. “Jēdar sōvegon.” And just like that, the eagle straightened herself out once more and crooned loudly before turning and launching herself into the grey morning sky.

  Suddenly she felt warm arms envelop her, accompanied by a few light kisses that were pressed to the crook of her neck. She breathed in contentedly before Rhaegar turned her so that she was pressed against his chest. Gods how she loved this man. 

  “Would you allow me to take you back to bed for a while longer?” He asked her suggestively. 

  Despite herself she nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to hoist her up into his arms and carry her back to their chambers and to their awaiting bed. 

  The following days were spent packing and loading the things that they had decided to take along with them, things that Rhaegar believed to be safer in Winterfell for the time being, and then they were saying their goodbyes. 

  Over the course of their voyage, Rhaegar kept his promise to not interfere in her training with Arthur, even though both of them were fairly certain after the night back on the isle with the old crone that she was in fact with child. She could only thank him for his restraint every night in the privacy of their cabin, and she could always feel how desperate he was to remove her clothing and look her over to check for signs of bruises or other such signs of overexertion. Whenever he would deem himself satisfied with his examination, she would tell him which muscles pained her and he would massage them, one by one until she felt relaxed and contented. 

  Arthur, to his credit took no mercy on her in their training. He used the constant rocking and swaying of the ship to his advantage, knowing that she was not yet accustomed to sailing. He used the fact that she had never owned a proper sword to his advantage, dancing around to tire her out. But Lyanna had resolved to not give up no matter how many times she found herself on her back, with the edge of his practice blade against her throat or the tip against her heart. Secretly she reveled in the experience, and she took every hurt with grace. The mistakes had cost her the round, but they had bought her lessons that she would never forget. 

 By the time they finally landed in White Harbor, she was ready for a much needed break. Unfortunately, Lord Manderly was not informed of their marital status and as such they were forced to rely on Ned to arrange for their chambers to all be in the same wing, where the kingsguard could easily defend and secure the prince and his _“charge,”_ and by extension himself and his Lady. 

  To her disappointment, Ned and Rhaegar excused  themselves to make time to appease Lord Manderly as protocol demanded of them. With Ned having been away in the Eyrie for years, and the Prince having never seen White Harbor to her knowledge, it would have been seen as rude if they had refused. Thankfully, they had managed to excuse both Ashara and herself from the festivities, claiming them as travel weary and in need of rest before they sail further North. 

  She was nearly sleeping by the time Rhaegar managed to sneak his way back into their rooms, but she could have been dead and still she would have known he was there. If not from the tingle she still felt from her mark, she knew by his scent, or the way that her heart would start to stutter whenever he was near. She was her own personal compass where Rhaegar was concerned and no doubt it was the same for him with her. 

  Within moments he had managed to remove his clothing and slide into the bed beside her. Like a magnet, his arms sought her out, pulling her close and enveloping her. He smelled of northern ale and smoke, which she thought, was possibly the most delicious thing she had smelled all night. 

  “Might I look into your beautiful eyes one last time before you fall asleep?” He murmured tenderly into her ear.

  She couldn’t stop herself from grinning like an idiot, but nevertheless she rolled over onto her back, making sure to keep his arms snugly wrapped around her middle. “How did it go?” She asked warily, knowing how Lord Manderly could be. 

  Her husband looked exhausted, both physically and mentally, no doubt being pushed to the limit between their journey from Dragonstone, having to entertain High Lords due to his title and station only to resume their journey in less than twelve hours. However, he did not let that stop him from answering her questions with a smile. 

  “Nothing I’m not used to. Lord Manderly was exceedingly gracious, he even regaled me with tales of the Good Queen Alysanne and her “woman’s court” that she held in White Harbor when she came on progress atop Silverwing.” He replied enthusiastically. She could tell that this had definitely been the highlight of his evening. 

  “That was quite a long time ago but it doesn’t surprise me that Lord Wyman would choose that tale to share. The North Remembers, even if it had been more than two centuries since the Good Queen Alysanne made her royal progress, or a century and a half since the last dragon graced the skies of the North. Did you learn anything new?” She asked, honestly curious. 

  Rhaegar smiled, a genuine smile and her heart fluttered a little at the sight. “Not as such, though it’s nice to hear more about Silverwing, all things considered.”

  She supposed she could understand, Silverwing was a game changer. There were plenty of written documents that contained information regarding the past Dragons of his House, Silverwing included. But to talk to people who could give a more personal rendition, one that's based off of tales and records which were kept for, and by the ancestors of any one particular Lord rather than to read something that is not a product of hearsay, was something else entirely. 

  “You know, I bet Lord Wyman has a personal journal or two of Lord Theomore, mayhap even his daughter, the Lady Mara who had served as one of her Ladies on Dragonstone. I could ask after it and see if he would forward any such material to Winterfell if it exists, if you’re interested.” She offered. 

  Rhaegar seemed to have come alive at the possibility. “Do you really think such a thing exists?” Rhaegar asked, his voice was hopeful. 

  She smiled genuinely at his apparent enthusiasm, rolling onto her side so that she could snuggle closer to his warmth, inhale him deeper and, possibly steal a kiss or three. “I absolutely do. It may seem foreign to you Southerners, but our people have long kept and recorded our own records. As you know, there are tomes within the Maesters tower at Castle Black that go back thousands of years. There are even ancient runes carved throughout the North that tell the tales that our generation can’t even fathom, tales we believe to be legends and myths and stories our wet-nurses tell us to scare us into behaving. But the North's memory is long, and if you know where to look. There will always be an answer. We have no sinister motives, so what has been recorded would have been personal observations. But there’s one thing even the maesters got correct. House Manderly adored Queen Alysanne and they no doubt recorded every detail of her visit, as well as any chance they were granted to see Silverwing. I would suspect we have some in Winterfell, and possibly even Castle Black.”

  He pulled her closer, a look of wonder in his eyes. “How do you do it?”

  She had no idea what he was talking about. “How do I do what?” She asked him skeptically. 

  “How do you continue to amaze me? I’ve always felt like the most intelligent person in the room when it came to books, history and the like, yet daily you remind me that I truly know nothing. You question everything, sometimes you can be as impulsive as a storm and at other times you’re as poised and proper as the Lady your father has always wanted you to be. Yet no matter what, you manage to ease my mind, help me focus my thoughts and find the inspiration that I always felt was lacking in my life. You bring me out of my melancholy and make me feel alive, I’m both in shock and awe of you most days.” 

  He had a habit of singing her praises, had it been any other man she likely would have slapped him for the usage of so many flowery words, but how could she willingly punish a man who she knew to be sincere? She stretched upward and pressed her lips to his, conveying to him as best she could, how special he was to her, how much she loved him, making sure he knew that they were a team and that she would always seek to provide what he could not, should the ability be within her power. 

  They lay that way in companionable silence for a time, drinking in each other’s presence. They’ve done this frequently since the night they were wed, but even more so since the night they went back to the isle to speak with the Woods Witch who foretold of their promised babes. 

  After a while he told her of the meal that Lord Wyman had thrown together and how he had shared news with both himself and Ned of the current state of affairs in the North, including those concerning the Wall. All and all he seemed rather optimistic that the Lord was satisfied with the time he had been given, even Ned had managed to socialize without finding a reason to hide in the shadows. The two of them spoke for a while longer, mostly of trivial things and eventually they found their rest. 

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

  A few days before they were to set sail, Rhaegar awoke with a jolt. Back when they were still on the Isle of Faces, he was told to take her to see the crone, the woods witch who gave his great-grandfather and his grandfather the prophecy about the Prince who was promised. Normally, he would have taken Lyanna to Summerhall, as this is where he typically would meet with the old woman. She would tell him of her dreams, and he would compose another song  to sing to her of his sweet aunt Jenny and his uncle Duncan who had loved her more than he loved his crown and kingdom.

  He had rolled over and shook Lyanna from her slumber, bidding for her to come with him. That night they had used the Fire gate for the first time, only they chose to not go far. When he activated the gate he had made his blood offering and stepped through the portal. Once they were inside, he followed the fire until he passed through with Lyanna beside him into the chamber beneath the World Tree. Somehow, the portal understood his intent the moment he had paid the blood price.

  There they had found her, just sitting outside close to where the altar had grown, though where there was once a singular altar, now there were two thrones, shaped entirely by the roots of the World Tree.

  She was a short thing, no larger than a small child, even smaller than the Lord Howland Reed, who had seemed a young boy in comparison to the company he was keeping. But the Ghost was a woman grown— a crone of sorts, with hair so white that it could rival freshly fallen snow, and her eyes were a ruby red… which Rhaegar now knew spoke more of her gift of sight than anything else. Her eyes were the color of the weirwood leaves, the same color as his ancestor Lord Bloodraven. 

  For years he had wondered if she was indeed a Child of the Forest, as the rumors had claimed but after all he had seen and heard from his own guide, there was no doubt in his mind of the validity of those assertions. 

  Lyanna stood beside him as the crone approached, silent as the grave. He could still recall her reaction to the twin thrones, and how she struggled to tear her gaze from them in order to focus on his old friend. 

  “You’ve found her boy,” the crone had announced by way of greeting. 

  He inclined his head in confirmation. No sense in pretending otherwise, they had spoken at length about the prince that was promised and the pact. Of his aunt Jenny, and of long twillights and the death of King's.

  “ _Deep within you lies a flickering flame, and with her a raging storm… fire to temper ice and ice to temper fire._

 _I dreamt of a girl with hair like a raven and steel in her gaze, who will summon the red messenger… I dreamt of a dragon that learned how to trust, and of her rider who woke the Ice Dragon...I dreamt of a man who shone as brightly as the sun, slay a mighty dragon with his golden sword… I dreamt of dragons, big and small flying over lands of fire and ice… I dreamt that the Wall crumbled and fell. And I dreamt of you,”_ she said, looking directly into Lyanna’s eyes. _“fighting against words that drifted on the wind, while you push forth the third head of the dragon. The first will bring the balance, the third will bring the fire… the second will harness both.”_ The crone finished while looking straight at Lyanna.

  Her words echoed around in his head as he watched his wife sleep… three. Of course he had suspected that there would be three, but somehow he assumed Rhaenys would be included in that count. But if the third brings fire… the first has to be a twin. 

  Ever since that night, he couldn’t help but think that they were close. Close to fulfilling the prophecy, close to finding out if the Crone was dreaming of babes Lya currently carried in her womb, or if they should keep at it. Not that he would mind any excuse to have his wife close to him, her flesh pressed against his own. 

In his heart, he already knew that she carried their children, but it was still too soon to know for certain.

  This was the hardest part, waiting to know, followed by waiting for the fruit of their labor to come to fruition. But he wouldn’t be lying if he admitted that for once, his heart and his actions were being driven by a force that had nothing to do with prophecy. He wanted Lya more than he craved the air he breathed, he wanted children with her because of his desire for her, he wanted to leave behind a legacy of dragonriders with silver hair and indigo or grey eyes or raven hair and silver or amethyst eyes and for the first time in his life he was filled with hope. A hope that had nothing to do with Summerhall or waking dragons… a hope that sprung from a single conscious dream— one where his family was alive and thriving and happy. But most of all, one where they were all together.

  It was these thoughts that remained with him on his way from Dragonstone to White Harbor. As he watched his wife tire herself day in and day out on the deck of the ship that they had chosen to take them North. It was these thoughts that consumed him each evening as he rubbed her sore muscles, and kissed her from head to toe in adoration and mahaps even reverence. 

  They had been wed just shy of two moons but he was near certain that her body had changed. She was yet to have her moons cycle, and the timing of the second one had passed just after they sailed North. By his calculations, and if the Red Messenger and the Ice comet were any indication of conception Lyanna had been pregnant since the night of their wedding, at the very least she had conceived on their journey to King's Landing. They had a silent agreement not to talk about it, at least until they had a better reason to suspect her condition was more certain, but he couldn’t help but silently mark the days. 

  Her eating habits were pretty much the same, she was always so busy that sometimes he would find himself reminding her to eat. But she continued to seek out their bed each afternoon come midday for a nap while he was busy going over things with Arthur and Oswell, among other things. However, her roller coaster moods had improved significantly the moment she boarded the ship and the southern winds began to push them in the direction of her precious North. He knew from Elia’s two pregnancies that it was still too soon to see any growth in her abdomen, but there were other changes that he had picked up on. Namely, her breasts were more sensitive and she was always warm… more warm than what could be considered normal for her, considering the fact that she was his ice maiden, and her brand of magic originally left her feeling cooler to his touch, like a reprieve to his burning inferno. Their marks were the proof of this, so he did not find it coincidental that her core temperature had risen. 

  Nevertheless, he kept his thoughts to himself as he watched her in silence, day in and day out as she trained beside Arthur. When she would complain of her aches he would tend to them with dedication and sometimes, he would even find himself reaching for her just so that he could lay his head against her stomach. This one thing he found she would allow, but only when it was just the two of them. 

  They docked in White Harbor almost twelve days after their ship had departed Dragonstone. Lord Manderly had come himself, along with his sons Wylis and Wendel and a small contingent of guards to escort them to the New Castle, or the White City as Lord Manderly likes to call it. 

  After introductions were made, his good-brother made the necessary requests for the location of their chambers, while Arthur and Oswell explained their security specifications to the Lord. Eventually, their belongings were brought to a wing of the castle that could be closed off and secured, allowing them a small measure of privacy. 

  Unfortunately, Varys had his little birds everywhere and “officially” he had come North on the Crowns behalf, which meant he had his part to play. After seeing to Lyanna and cleaning up, he excused himself and went to meet up with Ned and Arthur who would be accompanying him. 

  Like himself, Eddard did not have the privilege of staying in his chamber while he was staying in White Harbor. As Lord Rickards second son and the only male Stark present, he had a duty to entertain his host and his good-brother knew it.

  Fortune was kind to them, however, in that they had arrived late into the afternoon, which meant that by the time they were prepared to meet their host, the sun was already setting and as such he would not be expected to tarry long. 

  The meal was as modest as one could expect from the Lord of White Harbor. There were multiple courses of seafare, Striped Bass, an assortment of clams and cockles, as well as a  roasted lamb, a course of deserts, cheeses, nuts, and dried meats. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but there was no way he could avoid eating, so he selected the lamb, and some roasted root vegetables, and a glass of Northern Ale and he waited to be served. 

  He was not on unfamiliar ground, having to play his role of Crowned Prince, so he relaxed back into his chair and raised his cup in toast. “Lord Manderly, I would like to extend my gratitude to you for such a warm welcome. Not only for myself, but for my travel companions and my charge as well. House Targaryen will be sure to remember your kindness and generosity for many years to come.” 

  Rhaegar’s words, having the desired effect sent the hall into a round of cheers, Lord Manderly amongst those cheering loudly at his words.

  Lord Wyman cleared his throat, calming the room that was filled with his kin and close bannermen. “It has been too long since our White City has seen a dragon in it's halls, to have the Dragon and the Wolf here at the same time is a rare treat indeed! Let us drink, and eat, and celebrate such a momentous occasion and if His Grace will permit, I would be happy to tell you of the last dragon who came to White Harbor.” 

  He nodded his head, and settled himself into his seat prepared to hear the Lord's story through to the end and to his surprise he ended up listening to Lord Wyman recount the tale of when the Good Queen Alysanne flew north on her first royal progress on the back of her dragon Silverwing… 

 _My dragon…_ at least he hoped she was. 

  The time had ran away from him as he sat and listened to his host regale them with stories that had been passed down from generation to generation of the Good Queen and her Silver dragon, of her woman’s court and her quick wit and charm. Even now, he could tell that she was still deeply adored here. After that, they spent some time talking of the North, of the situation with the Wall, and the wildlings who lived beyond among other matters. Eventually, he stood and thanked Lord Wyman for his hospitality and then he excused himself to retire back to his chambers. 

  He found his wife in bed, curled up on her side, with her long dark tresses fanned out behind her like a dark flowing river. Her pale skin was kissed by the moon light that was creeping in through the open window. She almost looked as if she were sleeping but he knew that she was not by the pattern of her breathing. Lyanna could sleep like the dead, her breaths deep and heavy, her body languid but right now her breathing was light and relaxed. She had been waiting for him...

  Silently, he removed his clothing and folded it up, placing it on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Wearing nothing but his small clothes he slid into the bed behind her, and like a moth to a flame he reached for her, pulling her near enough so that he could breathe in her scent. 

  “Might I look into your beautiful eyes one last time before you fall asleep?”

  She rolled over, a kind smile on her face. “How did it go?”

  She must have expected him to feel harassed by their exuberant Lord of White Harbor, but the truth was far from it. He thought that he would have felt the same before he had spent some time with Lord Wyman, but all and all, he was perfectly satisfied by the nights events.

  They must have lain there talking for an hour before Lyanna finally scooted closer to him and tangled her fingers through his hair, just long enough for her to find rest, and not before long he soon followed her. That night he dreamt that he was flying over snow capped mountains and deep green forests. He dreamt of deep caverns dug deeply within the earth, and a sea that has never seen the sun.  His subconscious seemed to sense that he was somehow having a dragon dream, only this was no premonition. _He_ was the dragon. His vision was clearer than he could even remember, his hearing was multiplied tenfold, and he could smell the earth around him, and feel the magic that was attached to the land in which he or _she_ dwelled within. He had no idea where he was coming from, nor where he was traveling but that he was on the move, there was no doubt. The only thing he could sense was an urgency to move, to travel, to reach a new spot where he could be found more easily. 

  He felt the bed shift beside him and he opened his eyes, Lyanna was already awake and she was preparing herself for their continued trip to Winterfell. He wanted nothing more than to pull her back in bed with him and to lose himself inside of her, but he knew that the sooner he was up and ready, the sooner they could depart White Harbor and continue on to Winterfell. It was nearly midday by the time they were all loaded back up and saying their final farewells.

  Lyanna had surprised him the night before when she mentioned that Lord Wyman might have some old journals lying about, detailing Queen Alysanne’s progress to the North, so when she had approached him after they raised anchor with a wide smile, he was not at all prepared for her to hand him two small leather bound journals that Lord Manderly had managed to slip her before they departed.

  So, with avid interest he had spent the following days aboard their ship reading up on the Queen Alysanne’s visit to the north and all about her dragon whom had been kept well enough in hand that some of the people of White Harbor were able to observe the dragon without having fear of being burned to a crisp. Lyanna had continued to spar with Arthur though, now that they were approaching Winterfell, he noticed her doing so less and less. When he confronted her about the change in her training schedule, she brushed him off, stating that she was still sore, and did not wish to over exert herself before she got home. 

  It wasn't that she had to train daily with Arthur, he just feared that she was slowing down because of their close proximity to her childhood home and her Lord Father, whom he was certain still held immeasurable influence over his wife. This only hardened his resolve to address the matter with his now good-father about what is and is not proper for Lyanna now that she is his. And by all the laws of the first men, she was a Queen in her own right over these lands north of the Neck. Lord Rickard may not be aware of this at present, but he had every intention to make this known if not right away, within the first days of being in Winterfell.

* * *

**The Alpha-Wolf**

* * *

  As expected, the Targaryen maester arrived on schedule, the wolves were the first to announce his proximity, though Rickard had long since prepared his chambers within the Maesters tower. 

At first, he had been shocked by the call of the pack, thinking that they must have found prey or danger, but when Blizzard remained calm, and right by his side he knew that they were simply welcoming someone important. 

  They were all assembled in the yard when the horns blew announcing the arrival of their special guest. Benjen stood at his side and he could tell by the glint in his young sons eyes that he was equal parts nervous  and excited. Though, whether this excitement was due to their guest being a man of the Night’s Watch or because he was there to help investigate Walys was yet to be determined. 

  When the carriage finally came to a stop in the main courtyard, Rickard quickly moved to help his guest climb out. The man was nearing a century in years, the only other person he’d ever known to reach such an age was Old Nan, and he couldn’t even be sure of how many name days she’d seen, the woman was a crone even when he was still a boy. 

  Not unlike Old Nan, the maester possessed hair that  was a classic silver, whether that was due to his age or his blood Rickard couldn’t be sure, though his eyes were clearly losing their sight, it was clear that the old dragon was still as sharp as he was at the age of twenty. 

  “Maester Aemon, welcome to Winterfell, it’s an honor to have you, and a privilege to have your help.”

  “Nonsense, this matter concerns the Citadel as much as it concerns the Crown and the North, it's not only right that I’m here, it’s prudent not to mention quite wise on My Lords part to have asked for me of all people.” The old dragon replied. 

  Rickard couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, this maester was sharp as a whip and did not bother with southern courtesies the way most maesters of the Citadel were like to do. He gestured for Ben to approach. 

  “Maester Aemon, this is my youngest, Benjen. If it's to your satisfaction, he has agreed to escort you around Winterfell and to assist you when he’s finished with his daily tasks.”

  Ben stepped forward, “Maester Aemon, it's an honor to meet you, my father's had chambers prepared for you in the Maesters Tower and I would be happy to show you there.” he offered. 

  Aemon reached out, looping an arm through Bens. “ I should think that would be just fine. And perhaps on the way you could tell an old man about the wolves that have been escorting me ever since we approached the Wolf’s Wood.” He heard Aemon as they began their walk toward the Maesters tower. Benjen’s eyes darted back toward his seeking permission and Rickard nodded before motioning for them to continue on. 

  He had much to do in the coming days, for now he would allow the maester to rest and get situated and on the morrow they could meet and go over the documents and the allegations against Walys and with any luck, Ned and Lya would be here in the coming days.  
   
  09/20/281 AC

   As it turned out, his pups arrived just a little more than a sennight following the arrival of maester Aemon. Though he had no way of knowing for sure until he received confirmation from White Harbor, the Alpha in him knew the moment that Lyanna had set foot on Northern soil. The Direwolves made sure of it. For more than a week they had been gathered in the woods surrounding Winterfell, Blizzard and the other two would venture out and return but he would always hear them calling back and forth to one another. He’d suspected that they were calling out their locations to each other and for the most part their songs remained the same. 

  Then without warning, their calls became more frequent, more excited, and he noticed the She-wolf answer back more frequently. It was this moment that he was certain Lyanna had finally come home. 

  Almost two days after that, a raven from White Harbor brought word that Lyanna and Ned, along with the Prince, his kingsguard and the Lady Ashara and a few others would be making their way up the White Knife, so Rickard quickly dispatched riders and spare mounts to meet his children and their companions at the Rapids to escort them safely home. 

  After that, the calls of the wolves became more distant, as if they had begun moving away from Winterfell and somehow he understood that they had gone to act as an honor guard for his daughter and her kin. A part of him wished that he was there with them when she saw the wolves for the first time, a part of him hoped that they remained out of sight until she was safely home. But there was little he could do about any of it until she was back behind the safety and security of Winterfell’s grey walls. 

  It was almost another sennight that had passed before he saw Benjen racing by him in the yard, running at full speed toward the stables. “Whoa, slow down pup— what’s the rush?” He called. 

  “Sorry, Father— it’s Lya, she’s close. I’m going with the wolves to greet her!” He called back not bothering to slow down.

He heard the padding of paws come from behind, and then Blizzard was pressing his flank against him. He looked down to meet the deep green of the direwolves eyes and before he knew it, the wolf was off running to catch up with his pack-mates and Ben who had just went speeding out of the East Gate in search of his siblings.

* * *

  **The** **Knowing One**

* * *

 The following day, he met with the Lord of Winterfell to discuss the matters that had been the motivation to bring him this far south. He had known from discussions with his great nephew, of the tensions between the Lady Lyanna and the maester, but it wasn't until he had arrived that he came to understand the severity of the situation.

  Aemon spent the first handful of days locked away in the Maesters Tower, going over personal messages that were both sent and received from House Hightower, the Citadel, Casterly Rock, via maester Zacchary, and to and from the Red Keep from the Grand-maester Pycelle. None of this was particularly worrisome, as it was quite common for maesters to communicate between the different holdfasts that they served. What was interesting about all of this was the subject matter that they had been discussing and recording.

  From what he could gather, the maester in question; Walys, had been serving Winterfell for nearly two and ten years and he had become quite familiar with Lord Rickard following the departure of the Lady Stark, some many years before. As such, Lord Rickard had allowed Walys access to documents and histories that the Citadel had been after for more than a century. There were journal entries that were recovered that were quite detailed, ranging in subjects as varied as Northern Lore, histories of marriages and betrothals since the time of the Targaryen civil war, best known as the Dance of Dragons. He had documented many pregnancies, not limited to the immediate members of House Stark. There were documents that had been copied that referenced any historical members believed to possess the gift to warg, greensee and even suspected skin-changers. 

  The fact that this information was being recorded was not the concerning part, it was the fact that this information was accompanied by other missives that were shared between King's Landing and Casterly Rock. Missives that contained their own amount of sensitive material regarding the royal family, including pregnancies, stillbirths, sleeping patterns, behavioral patterns, and signs of possible madness. It wasn't until he stumbled upon some of the missives sent by Pycelle and Zacchary that he was able to understand the full extent of the matter. 

  The Citadel, had long since been trying to discredit the validity of magical influence in the known world, they have done their best to convince the realm, and the world as a whole that the Greater Mysteries are no more. That which can not be explained is not a real threat, at least that is what this new version of the Citadel would have the realm believe. But even so, the main benefactor for the Citadel has always been House Hightower, who were also the same people who founded the Citadel in Old Town, long before his ancestor the Conqueror landed on the shores of the Blackwater almost three hundred years ago. And from what he could gather, the Hightower’s had a keen interest in dragon lore and magical influences within the realm. To further confirm this, he had uncovered what looked to be records of different attempts to search through the Stark crypts in search for dragon eggs that were reported to have been left behind by the dragon Vermax when his rider had come north to treat with Cregan Stark during the early days of the Dance. 

  This small detail did not sit well with him. It was true that the Hightower’s had married into his line more than once, in fact, Rhaena Targaryen married Garmund Hightower after the Dance had ended and they had six daughters. That there was still lingering traces of dragons blood in their line could not be disputed, nor the fact that they very likely still had possession of the late prince Maelor’s dragon egg… so to say he found their apparent interest in possible eggs in Winterfell disturbing would be a serious understatement. 

  Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and rubbed at his face. He was struggling with everything that he had found, and he dreaded what he had yet been uncovered. This matter with the Citadel went deeper than anyone knew, and there was no way that he would get the answers that he desired within these pages of parchment. He would need to speak with Walys himself...

* * *

  **The She-Wolf**

* * *

  Lyanna woke with the sun and soon Rhaegar was awake as well. They had at the very least, another week of travel from White Harbor to Winterfell. And being that she had skipped out on the meal Lord Manderly had prepared for them the previous evening, she decided to make an appearance this morning to break her fast with them before they made their way back to the ship that would carry them up the White Knife as far as the Rapids, where her father would have men waiting to escort them the rest of the way home. 

  Lyanna was already feeling giddy, just being home in the North invigorated her in a way that she hasn’t been in moons. The morning air was crisp, and she inhaled it deeply, relishing in the sharp sweetness that never fully abated, even in the middle of a long summer.

  The white city of the North was breathtaking, coupled with the snow that had yet to disappear, it looked nearly magical, though a part of her much preferred the old castle to the new, perhaps that was her Stark blood. Mayhap it was the fact that while the New Castle was a stunning work of art, it was also the only keep in all of the North to possess a Sept, while the Godswood was technically still attached to the new keep, it resided more closely to The Den than it did the New Castle, the only thing to link the two was a tunnel that ran underground. The Heart Tree however was absolutely stunning in her opinion. Even from here, she could see the large bone white branches stretching out in every direction, a canopy of blood red leaves enveloping the old black keep, a random branch reaching in through a wall or a window here and there. The Nameless Gods had long since reclaimed the land and a part of her loved the castle even more for it, she thought as she walked beside her good-sister. 

  Lord Manderly was already seated in the hall when she entered beside Ashara, Rhaegar, Ned and the two members of Rhaegar’s kingsguard that accompanied them everywhere. Quickly they were announced and then ushered into some seats at the High Table where both Ned and Rhaegar were seated closest to their host, Ashara sat beside Ned while she sat beside Rhaegar. If those present thought it an odd seating arrangement, no one said a thing. The fact was, Ned and Ashara had no reason to hide their relationship, as both families were aware of their marital status, and as such, Ned was able to be more transparent about his intentions toward Ashara, not to mention, Ser Arthur was never far away. 

  Once they had finished breaking their fasts and had made their goodbyes, Lord Manderly sent them with an escort back to their ship, promising that he would be happy to receive them on their return south, which they all knew would be unnecessary. Nevertheless they thanked him profusely for their hospitality, and promised to make sure her Lord Father heard all about their visit, though, no doubt he’d already dispatched a Raven at the same time Ned had sent hers earlier that morning. 

  The North felt differently to her now that she was here, not in an uncomfortable manner, but like she were being welcomed home. The air remained crisp as they journeyed northward, up the White Knife. The closer she got to Winterfell, the more she could feel it, the birds sang more loudly, and the forest nearly came alive at night. 

  On the second morning after departing White Harbor they docked just shy of where the Rapids started. As she suspected, her father had sent a welcoming party and some wagons to help them transport the things they had brought with them from Dragonstone. The moment she placed her feet onto the solid earth the call of at least two dozen wolves rose up out of the Wolf’s Wood and a part of her knew that this pack was hers, her own wolfs blood thrummed within her, with the feel of their proximity. 

  She had never wanted to run so badly in her life. Not away, she simply felt the urge to run or ride, to feel the wind through her hair, and smell the earth beneath her. She felt as if she had eyes upon her, watching her, guarding her and beckoning her home. And even though she never left the safety of their circle and the wolves had yet to make an appearance, they continued to serenade her and the others who traveled along side her on their way to Winterfell. 

  She wondered what her father was doing, or whether Ben had made it home and if he had, she wondered whether or not he had met the wolves her father had mentioned. She wondered how far away they were from the pack and she also wondered where Sky was at the moment and whether she could see Elia and Rhaenys if she linked up with her. 

  It was five days by horse from the Rapids before they crossed into the lands held by her father. She had ridden the whole way, occasionally she would convince Rhaegar or Arthur to race with her, even if they did know it was futile. She never impressed upon Ashara though, as she suspected that she was far more comfortable taking a steady canter beside Ned. 

  They traveled by day, and camped in the evening, sometimes on the road, twice they had found an inn that was more than happy to put them up but she knew for certain that by the time the sun set she would be back inside the halls of her ancestors, surrounded by her blood and her people, and the comforting embrace of Winterfell's grey walls. She longed to see the Godswood, to drink up the smell of fresh earth, of Pine, Oak and Ironwood, to sit in her father’s solar and watch him work, or to visit with the small folk in Winter Town. 

  Ned must have sensed her anxiousness because he spurred his horse forward to ride beside her for a time. “Why so quiet?” He questioned. 

  She hadn’t realized that she was, she scrunched up her face trying to figure out how to articulate her thoughts. Beside her, Ned smiled warmly. 

  “Be at ease, I’m sure father will be more than accommodating to your princely husband.” He teased.

  There it was, she hadn’t been anxious about her husband and her father meeting. She was nervous about what her father would say to her, about her sword, or her mark, or the fact that she had married a man who was not the one he had intended for her. She was anxious to see his reaction to the revelation of her being the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and she was nervous because she had missed her moons blood a second time and she wasn’t sure how her father would react to her carrying a babe within her womb at such an early age. Such things were futile to stress over, she knew but that didn’t stop her from doing it anyway. 

  “I think I’m just ready to be home, I feel like we’ve been on an extended adventure, and I’m just ready for it to be over, to visit mother in the Godswood, to hug Ben and shadow our Lord Father.” These things were true, but they were only a small part of it. 

  Ned chuckled beside her, “I suppose you won't have to wait long to fulfill at least one of those desires.”

  Lyanna looked up at her brother trying to understand what he meant only to find his kind eyes staring out at the moors before them as four tiny figures raced in their direction. She couldn’t make out who it was or what was traveling with him, but they were moving swiftly. “What is that?” She asked Ned suspiciously. 

  Ned grinned, which was unusual for him, “That would be your twin if I had to guess.” He chuckled once more. 

  Suddenly she couldn’t think of anything other than Ben and home, and before anyone knew what was happening, she kicked her heels into the sides of her mount and took off at breakneck speed in the direction of the four shapes that were riding toward them. She didn’t even hear the sound of hoofbeats following closely behind her, too far gone in her desperation to reach her little brother. 

  Ben, as it turned out was much further away from their party than she had thought when she set off to reach him, nevertheless she only slowed her mount when she could see his silhouette more clearly along with the three other shapes that had been trailing him for the past hour since she’d noticed him heading in her direction. What she had thought were horses riding behind Ben were clearly not horses now that she could see them clearly. She came to a halt not far from where he was, not wanting to cross out of sight of her own party, lest Rhaegar or Arthur or Oswell panic. 

  A mere three moons ago, she would not have hesitated to make the rest of the journey on her own, damn any consequences that she would incur, yet she was no longer that girl, not entirely. So against her wolfish instincts she decided to stay her position and wait for everyone to either catch up or arrive. 

  It was Oswell who arrived first, having been the one Rhaegar sent after her. She had come to like the man immensely, so she was quite happy for his company. 

  “Your Grace, I would say thank you for allowing me the chance to catch up, but something tells me that I was not what inspired you to be merciful,” He jested. 

  “You wound me good Ser, as it happens I slowed not only for you, but for the rest of our party too. How unseemly would it be to ride all the way to Winterfell beside Benjen, without my loyal guard following?” She grinned, fully and genuinely. 

  “Her Grace should not tell such tales, it’s hardly appropriate for you to start acting a royal Lady now that you’re almost home. Best bring back the she-wolf lest your Lord Father suspect that we’ve brought him a grumpkin in place of his only daughter.” He returned mirthfully. 

  She reached and shoved him in mock indignation. “Perhaps I shan’t forgive your accusatory words,” she pouted, not at all wounded in truth. 

  He looked at her in mock horror. “You’re a cruel princess, but I shall endeavor to dispel your ire until you’re unable to loath me. No matter how long it shall take.” He vowed cheekily. 

  They stopped in their banter long enough to hear the approach of the rest of their party, and Lyanna turned her attention back to her little brother. But she was unable to focus on him now. She quickly dismounted her horse, sliding easily to the ground. Absentmindedly she passed her reins to Oswell who had also dismounted. All around them the Wolf’s Wood went still, no more could she hear the call of the wolves that had been with her since the moment she stepped off their ship at the Rapids. “Oswell, keep the horses in hand, and don’t approach until I tell you it’s safe.” 

  She didn't wait for him to reply, though she could vaguely make out his words of protest, and something about seeing to her safety, and not being a bloody stable hand, she couldn’t care less. She walked forward, closing the distance between herself and the brother that was approaching them. 

  Leading the way were three giant wolves, from where she was, she could only make out the giant black wolf that lead them. Behind her she heard the horses whicker in warning, and movement at the perimeter of the Wolf’s Wood was seen through her periphery. Ben was close enough now that she could see the color of his hair, and the wild smile on his face. She made sure she was well enough away from Oswell before she paused, waiting for the three enormous wolves to get close enough to her so that she could initiate contact with them. 

  Her father said she had someone waiting on her, but from what she could see, there were certainly more than one that had been awaiting her. The direwolves arrived before Benjen and the one leading them was a black so deep that it looked blue in the afternoon lighting. Lyanna didn’t move a muscle, unsure of how to proceed with them so nearby. The other two wolves came behind the black, one was pale grey and the other who was easily the largest of the three was a grey so deep it reminded her of the color of Winterfell’s grey walls. 

  A part of her wanted to crouch down the way you would normally to greet a hound or other domestic creature, but this was no hound and there was hardly a reason to crouch as the Direwolf was clearly large enough to look her straight in the eye. 

  She wasn’t sure how much time had passed between the moment she had dismounted and now, but she was certain time had slowed. Benjen was almost upon her, and she was sure she could hear Ned and Rhaegar talking quietly with Arthur, Howland and Oswell on what they should do to protect her, but she put their voices out of her mind and she reached out for the massive Direwolf that was slowly approaching her. And then, before she could think about it she took her first step toward the wolf who at the same time moved forward and pressed her snout against Lyanna’s hand, closing the distance. 

  All around them, the shapes that had remained hidden emerged out from the safety of the Wolf’s Wood and raised their heads to call out their official welcome, joined by the two wolves who flanked the one whom had come first to greet her. A she-wolf much like herself, Lyanna realized after the fact. 

  “Hello there, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say, but I can’t begin to tell you how honored I am to be welcomed by you and your pack.” Lyanna greeted the wolf. 

  The other two wolves approached cautiously, but not defensively. Almost as if they were awaiting permission from their packmate to give their greeting. She wasn’t sure what to make of this, as she knew next to nothing of the pack-life or the politics of a pack of Direwolves. The black turned her gaze back to the other two and yipped lightly to them before she raised her own head and called back to their pack, returning their greeting. 

  Lyanna turned her gaze back toward the direction of the Wolf’s Wood where she could see the reflection of at least thirty sets of eyes starting to move further away from the safety of the woods. 

_My Gods, how on earth did they all get here?_

  “Lyanna!” She heard Benjen call her and she snapped her head back to the sound of his not so far off voice. 

  He had already dismounted by the time she saw him. Her little brother had grown a tad in the last couple moons, but his face was much unchanged. She started toward him on impulse, “Ben! Oh Ben I’ve missed you!” She cried, launching herself into his arms. 

  “I’m so happy you’re here Lya, the Wolves knew you were close, that’s why I’m here.” He told her without needing to be prompted. “I see you’ve met them, the big one Father calls Blizzard.”

  Lyanna turned to look at the huge grey wolf, testing the name. “So that’s what your called?” She asked him. The wolf looked at her with questioning eyes, so she tried again. 

  “I suspect you didn’t come all the way here to not say hello, did you Blizzard?” She asked him and to her delight, he responded by padding up to her and rubbing his flank against her, marking her with his scent it almost felt like. 

  “Lya?” She heard Ned call to her and Benjen. 

  She held up a hand, telling him to wait a moment. “Do the other two have names?” She asked her little brother.

  Benjen shook his head, “The other two are seldomly within the Castle, the black one is often times in the Wolf’s Wood with the pack, but Blizzard stays with father most of the time. But Father leaves the Hunters Gate open for them to come and go as they please during the day and the guards have orders to open the gates to them at night should they wish to leave or return.” 

  “Why didn’t he name the other two?” She asked curiously. 

  “Because he suspects that they are not his to name, and Blizzard is the only one that really interacts with him.” Benjen said it as if the answer should have been obvious. 

  “Have there been any casualties since they arrived?” This perhaps was the most important thing she had need of knowing. 

  Ben shook his head, “Nay, in fact, aside from these three, this is the first time I’ve actually seen the entire pack. I don’t think anyone truly knew how many there are until right now. But so far, father has suspended venturing within the Wolf’s Wood for hunting without first contacting Winterfell to make arrangements.”

  She nodded, turning back toward the other two wolves and her party, “Ned, would you dismount and come here?” She called back, noticing the pale grey perk up at the mention of her older brother. 

   _Curious…_

  Her she-wolf approached silent and steady, the silvery grey of her eyes burning into the steel grey of her own. But the pale grey never took his eyes from Ned. 

  “He hardly makes a sound.” She mused aloud.

  “He rarely does, from what I’ve seen of him. Of the three of them, he is the most solitary.” Benjen replied.

  This, Lyanna found interesting. “The larger one you say stays closer to Father, what about her?” Lyanna questioned. 

  “I told you, she’s mostly with her pack, but when she’s not, she is often found in the Godswood curled up by the heart tree.” Ben smiled. 

  This, was perhaps the most interesting thing she had learned this far. Three direwolves that are as alike as night and day who stand together regardless. Much like her pack, whom clearly consisted of many different personality types. 

  By now Ned was close enough to them that she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. “Ned, I wanted you to meet the three wolves that have been staying with Father and Ben while we’ve been away.”

  Ned, ever cautious slowed down as he got closer. “Lyanna, you do know that Direwolves are not pets..? Perhaps you should come back to your horse.” Ned responded warily. 

  She couldn’t help but laugh at her brother’s pragmatic approach to everything. “Do you think House Targaryen would feel the same if a Dragon swooped down from the sky riderless and in search of someone worthy of bonding?” 

  Ned furrowed his brows, “Lya, that is not the same thing. Direwolves are not Dragons.”

  She fought the urge to make an unladylike gesture, “You’re right, Direwolves are not dragons, yet our House is as connected to the Direwolf as House Targaryen is connected to their Dragons.”

  Ned opened his mouth to respond, but stopped short as the pale grey Direwolf closed the distance between them, pressing himself against her brother. She had a feeling that this would be the case, so she turned her attention back to the black. “It looks as if you’re with me then?”

  The she-wolf pressed her head into Lyanna’s stomach, nudging her as if she were confirming what Lyanna suspected. “I suppose that means I have to find a name for you. Since I already have a Winter, and a Sky and Rhaegar already has a Smoke, Shadow is what you shall be called. What do you think?” 

  The wolf looked at her knowingly and then thumped her tail against the hard packed earth affirming that she approved. 

  Ben had gone still, watching Ned with keen interest as he hesitantly placed his hand atop the beasts head and slowly, gathered it's fur into his hand, massaging the area where he and the wolf were connected. To everyone’s shock, the wolf turned his body into Neds touch, practically begging for more attention from him and just like that, whatever tension they had felt with the close proximity of the pack was gone in an instant. 

  “I’ll race you home.” Ben challenged, grinning wickedly. 

  How much she wanted to accept, he would never know. Sadly, she had raced ahead of her party to get to him and she wanted to make sure they weren’t far behind them once she entered Winterfell. 

  “I don’t think it wise to race off right now, how about we ride with the rest of our party, and you can fill me and Neddie in on things.” She suggested instead. 

  “Things like what?” Ben retorted, incredulously. He almost seemed disappointed. 

  She stepped in closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Things like—how annoying Bran was on your journey to Riverrun. What it was like to travel with Lord Umber, what father’s been up to? Things like that...” 

  Ben smiled genuinely, realizing that this meant spending more time with her before she got home. Which of course was an added bonus, but not at all her sole motivation if she were being honest. 

  “Alright, but when we get closer?” He asked once more, a wolfish look taking over his features.

  She couldn’t help it. “We shall see.” She replied with a wolfish grin of her own. “Come let us go and greet the newest members of our pack.”

* * *

**The Silver Prince**

* * *

  As they traveled North, the air grew colder but that was not the most significant observation that he had made. The woods were alive all around them, but it hadn’t happened until the moment that Lyanna had disembarked their ship and stepped back on Northern soil. From that moment on, whenever they were traveling they were accompanied by a flock of ravens who cawed loudly whenever they stopped long enough for the ravens to gather in a single tree nearby them, the wolves too had made their appearance known to himself and his party but he had known about the wolves in the North, he had shared a vision that showed them returning, yet knowing about them, and knowing they were close were two completely different ideologies. Nevertheless, Lyanna did not seem at all troubled by the closeness of the pack, and on the three occasions that they were unable to secure lodgings he would find Lyanna sitting outside of their tent staring at the moon, taking in the call of the pack that he somehow knew surrounded them and watched them from within the safety of the Wolfs Wood.

  It wasn't until the day that they were expected to reach Winterfell that they saw the wolves for the first time. Lyanna had ridden off, ahead of their party once more, so this time he sent Ser Oswell to shadow behind her. This was her home, her land and he couldn't imagine anyone seeking to harm her here. Especially if the way the North celebrated her win at the tourney was any indication of how much her people loved her. No, there was something infinitely different about the people of the North in comparison to the people who grew up south of the Neck. By the time the rest of their party managed to catch up with his she-wolf she had already dismounted and was awaiting the approach of three massive Direwolves that had, by the looks of things, come to be her honor guard along with her youngest brother who had joined the wolves. Seeing the lad here, it should have been obvious why Lyanna had ditched them and rode off on her own.

  “Your grace?” Arthur called, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to look at his cousin, and closest friend. “Should we not do something, surely it's unsafe for Her Grace to be out there with three wolves who are easily the size of a small horse.” 

  He wanted to laugh at his knight, one of the bravest men he ever had the pleasure of knowing, but he knew that it would not be appreciated. “There is aught to do about it now, Ser. She will let us know if she has need of our swords, though I doubt that she will.” He replied, suppressing his smile.

  His good brother spoke up beside him.”Aye, if anyone is going to tame a wild beast, it would be Lya. Though I have to agree with Ser Arthur on this one. A Direwolf is no pet.”

  “Lya—,” Ned called out a protest, but his wife who would not be deterred held a hand up for him to hold his position while she spoke with her younger brother who had arrived moments before.

  She was a vision, straight out of one of his many dreams, there was no fear in her eyes as she stood there amongst wolves that were nearly the size of his horse. She seemed as if she had always belonged with them and they her, nor could he find a valid argument against the thought. For surely if the people were expected to accept dragons, then the crown would also have to accept the Direwolf of his future Queen, even if that particular Direwolf happens to have an abnormally large pack of her own.

  He took the time to observe her while she stood there, dressed in the deep grey colors of her House, her hair hanging loosely in long wild curls down her back. The top of her hair was braided into some sort of Northern style, where the front of her hair was arranged intricately to resemble a crown. She stood out in contrast to the blindingly white snow covered earth, yet she looked as if she was meant to be here and the thought made him frown. He was still having a hard time figuring out if claiming her had been what was best for her, seeing her here, so at peace, and seemingly complete he couldn't stop himself from panicking all over again.

  After a tense introduction between Ned and the Direwolves they eventually made their way toward Winterfell, wolves in toe. The three that had come to welcome never left Lyanna’s side and he vaguely wondered if they would attempt to follow her to King’s Landing and how well that would go over with his father. What he found even more shocking however, was the fact that the other wolves that had been staying hidden in the woods never retreated back into the trees, instead they opted to run just outside the boundary where they could keep their eyes on the other three and he suspected Lyanna as well.

  After everything they had seen, and experienced since finding one another, he could not bring himself to doubt the mystical power that his wife possessed. Whether or not she did so consciously or unconsciously, he still did not know but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. Soon enough they would have a weyr/pack of their own who would bond to both dragon and Direwolf alike, and who knows, maybe one or two will find that they can bond other creatures like their mother. These thoughts remained with him for a while longer as they continued their journey.

  To his surprise, Lyanna remained with them the rest of the way to Winterfell, never straying far from their party which he found shocking. He had expected for her to take off the moment that the grey walls were close enough to see men walking on the inner and outer portion. But she eventually did kick her heels into her mount, pushing him to move more swiftly the moment she heard the horn sound from atop the wall announcing their arrival. 

  “Should I go after her, Your Grace?” Oswell asked upon seeing her ride ahead.

 He smiled fondly at her antics, before shaking his head. “Nay, she is home and there is no safer place for her. Come let us not keep them waiting.” He added, kicking his heels into his mount as well. 

* * *

  **The Alpha-Wolf**

* * *

  It was almost evening when the horns atop the battlements announced the return of his pups, but having known they would arrive at any moment, he’d ordered the household to be ready for them no matter what time they arrived. To his satisfaction, when the horns called out the castle sprung to life and by the time he reached the inner courtyard, everyone was already there waiting on him, including the old maester who he imagined made the journey to the yard to greet his great-grand nephew. Quickly, he hurried to his place and motioned for the gates to be opened. 

  After a few moments he heard the familiar sound of hoofbeats against the cold earth beyond the castle, and then his two youngest pups were racing into the yard, trailed by three enormous direwolves whose eyes were alight with excitement, and were trained solely on their new mistress… For some reason, he had expected that Blizzard was only his companion due to proximity rather than choice. There was never any doubt that the three of them, along with every other Direwolf that has come south of the Wall in the past few moons, had come for her and her alone. 

  It didn’t take long for his she-wolf to disentangle herself from her saddle and jump down only for her to launch herself into his waiting arms, earning a chuckle from some of the household who were assembled behind him that were all familiar with her antics. He didn’t care, his little girl was home, and he didn’t waste a moment breathing in her familiar scent. The crisp scent of winter and roses and iron that spoke of her ancestry and her gift. 

  His little girl was a royal princess and mahap even a Queen, but the creature who was quietly squeezing him was simply his pup. It wasn’t until after he noticed that the rest of her party had finally entered the main courtyard that he reluctantly placed his daughter back on the ground and held her at arm's length, taking in her appearance. . .

  She had rosy cheeks that could be attributed to the crisp evening air, and her eyes shone with excitement. She looked… happy, and somehow that pleased him immeasurably. Behind her, Ned had dismounted and was currently aiding a woman that Rickard could only assume was the Lady Ashara, as she climbed down from her own mount, the two looked as in sync with one another as Lya did with her silver prince. 

  Lyanna pulled herself away from his grasp and pulled him forward to make introductions. “Father, might I introduce my husband Prince Rhaegar,” Rickard remembering his courtesies quickly moved to drop to one knee before the Crowned Prince. The rest of the household had all chosen to follow their Liege Lords example and bent their knees in supplication as well. 

  “Please, Lord Stark, rise. Let us not be bound by our social status but by our common interests. And mayhap by  the blood that we will one day share if the Gods are merciful.” The prince replied. 

  When Rickard stood he took in the measure of this prince who thought himself worthy of his daughter and he was surprised to admit that he did not find him lacking. He was quite tall and adequately built, showing that this prince trained hard in the yard alongside his knights. He could respect that in a future ruler, he could not abide a paper pushing aristocrat who expected others to fight his battles. And something told him that there would indeed be battles to be fought in the near future. 

  “Let us hope then that they have already answered your prayers, as I would love nothing more than to see a pack of winged-wolves running through Winterfell's godswood and bringing cheer to its ancient halls.” He returned sincerely, earning a kind smile from his now good-son. 

  Prince Rhaegar stepped aside, allowing for Ned to approach with his new bride on his arm. His son had changed in the moons since the last time he had seen him, but it wasn’t a physical change. There was something in the way he carried himself, he no longer stuck to the shadows. This version of Ned stood apart from other men, he had a confident air about him that Rickard could only assume was in part due to this new relationship that his son had found himself a part of. 

  Ned stepped up, “Father, may I introduce to you the Lady Ashara, formerly of House Dayne. My wife and my mate.” He pulled Ashara forward, and she dropped into a polite curtsey.

  Rickard reached out and took the Ladies hands into his own, and he helped her back into a standing position so that he could take all of  her in. In a word, she was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen apart from his Lyarra and his little she-wolf. It was no wonder that she managed to snag his quiet wolf, for nothing short of remarkable could have drawn his Ned out of hiding. 

  “Lady Stark, what a pleasure to meet the woman who’s made it possible for my quiet Ned to return home after so many years away in the Eyrie.” The lady Ashara blushed, no doubt having expected the icy Lord of Winterfell that people spoke of. He didn’t bother to hide the smile of satisfaction that he felt at her reaction. 

  “You’re too kind, My Lord. And truly, I doubt Ned would have remained away from home much longer. He had all but made up his mind within a few days of being reunited with his pack at Harrenhal.” She returned kindly. 

  Before he could say anything else, their collective attentions were drawn to the reunion taking place behind them between the Prince and his great-grand uncle. 

  Not wanting to intrude on what Rickard could only assume was a  long awaited reunion, he quickly dismissed the household staff and motioned for one of the stewards to come and show their guests to the rooms that had been prepared within the First Keep. 

  He could catch up with everyone during the meal that the kitchens had been preparing, but for now it was enough that his children were home and still in one piece, for the most part. 

  After all the emotional greetings between estranged kin on both sides, Rickard decided to escort Lyanna to the newly restored First Keep. He knew that she was likely tired but she could at the very least, fill him in on some of the secrecy that she was forced to maintain through her correspondence. 

  “How about I show you to your new chambers?” He suggested, drawing her attention away from the prince and the old dragon who were being escorted back to the Maesters tower by his youngest pup Ben. The Sword of the Morning trailed behind them silently, which left Ser Oswell standing just behind Lya, awaiting her orders. 

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to come to terms with the thought that Lyanna would need her own guard to escort her within the walls of her own home. 

  Lyanna turned to him and gave a warm smile. “Do you mean to suggest that the First Keep is ready?” 

  She was never any good at hiding her excitement. So he gestured for her to follow him and offered her his arm. “It just so happens that my daughter knows this keep almost better than it's ghosts, and when she sent word that she required access to the First Keep, she did so with ample time for her Lord Father to prepare.” He teased. 

  He didn’t miss how she beamed at him when he confirmed that the Keep was ready, and if nothing else it brought him a small measure of comfort knowing that he could still make her smile. 

  No matter how many times she reassured him that her decision to not inform him about her mark had nothing to do with a lack of trust on her part, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had in fact pushed her into keeping things from him. 

  He could blame Walys for many things, but he couldn’t blame him for a decision he had made on his own. Whether he had been counseled by someone biased or not, he still chose to entertain the betrothal of his own accord. . . He still chose to take a stance against his daughters instincts—all because it aligned with his other interests and no amount of reassurances would be able to wash away his personal guilt. 

  “You could tell me on our way what the sudden interest with the First Keep and the Broken Tower is all about, if it’s not too much trouble?” He suggested nonchalantly as they started their walk back toward the East Gate and in the direction of the Old Keep. 

  “I’m afraid that the story is far longer than you can imagine, but I can give you the basics.” She replied. He nodded that these terms were agreeable and she started in on her tale. 

  “You know from Brandon that I’ve been having dreams that hold some sort of prophetic significance, which is how I knew the wolves had returned. But my dreams are so much more powerful than that.” Lyanna began, as they moved slowly through the main yard. 

  “I can’t be sure whether these dreams would have come with or without the marks, but when Rhaegar and I sleep, sometimes our dreams merge.”

  He wanted to interrupt to ask for a better explanation, but he feared that would just prolong her story, so he simply nodded his assurance that he was listening. He would save his comments and questions for another time. 

  “On our journey from King's Landing, I dreamed that my children were here in Winterfell, a son named Aegon, a daughter named Visenya, and another that they called Dany. There were more children than those three though. There was a boy named Aeleric, who looked like Brandon but had deep lilac colored eyes, Rhaegar’s younger brother Viserys was there, a girl that looks like me named Arya, who I don’t think was one of mine among the many who I dreamed of. And they were all gathered within the top floor of the Broken Tower that had been restored.”  She continued on as they walked. 

  Lyanna was gripping his arm tightly by the time they reached the archway that led to the older round drum tower that was the First Keep, it didn’t look like much from the ground, but it was far larger than it actually appeared. However, over time and as Winterfell grew, the First Keep had been virtually abandoned by his family. When his children were growing up, Lyanna and Ben could oftentimes be found playing near the Broken Tower  or the First Keep, but he had forbidden them from entering either structure, so he understood that Lya was feeling excited for what was to come. 

  The First Keep was believed to have been built by Bran the Builder, but only after he had completed the crypts. Over the years it had been rebuilt several times, but no one knew for sure whether the design was inspired by the First Men, or if it had been rebuilt in its current fashion after the Andal invasion. However, the gargoyles were unique and have been featured in only one other building in all of Westeros, and that building had no Andal influence, for Dragonstone had been shaped using blood magic and dragonfire and was completely Valyrian in its build.

  Of course he knew some of this from his lessons when he was a boy, but some of the finer points he had learned from Lya. She had a natural inclination toward the older parts of the castle and she would often inquire about its history and why it had fallen into disrepair. It didn’t surprise him that she had been interested in seeing it restored, in fact, of all his children Lyanna was the most interested in their history and lineage, and there’s nothing more _Stark_ in all of Winterfell than the First Keep, the Godswood, and the Crypts. 

  He decided to join his voice to hers by telling her about the Keep, _“Something she doesn’t know in exchange for something I didn’t know.”_

   “I think that you will find that I didn’t have to restore very much. The furnishings are new, as are the baths, the linens and the furs. The ceilings, and the foundations were sound and the Ironwood supports and doors have kept nicely. Other than that, it’s as untouched by time as it could possibly be.” 

  She beamed at him while he spoke to her of the restorations, if she could have been there to help, he was sure she would have been right in the thick of things. 

  He paused at the entrance to the Keep and opened the door leading within so that she could enter first. He gave her all the time she needed to take in everything and while she did that, he looked his pup over in return. 

  She looked well, her cheeks were rosy pink, her hair had grown a few inches and he suspected that it was because the weather was beginning to turn cold once more. She seemed more free, if even such a thing were possible and she certainly did not seem to mind being married. This perhaps, he found the most amusing thing about his daughter. The girl he had sent to Harrenhal detested the idea of being called a Lady, let alone treated as such, yet the girl that stood before him was not only a Lady, but a Princess and if Ben was correct, she was possibly even a Queen and she was happily married at that. 

  The alpha wolf in him wanted to rage that he had not been there to see his she-pup wed, but seeing her like this… in a situation that she chose and pursued on her own… he could do nothing but smile. 

  Lya continued to tell him about her interest in the First Keep and the Tower as he conducted her toward her chambers on the top floor. Lyanna, despite being his only daughter, was now married to the Crowned Prince, and as such required chambers fitting of her station, as would the Prince so he had taken special care in the preparations of her new chambers. 

  He opened the door on the uppermost floor to reveal the rooms within, all the while Lyanna continued  filling him in about her interests and her dreams. 

  “So you see, I have no real reason to occupy the First Keep, but something about the dream told me that this Keep, as well as the Broken Tower will become quite important to my children and extended family in the future—,” Lyanna was saying.

  When he ushered her inside however, she stopped mid sentence. The room was large, large enough to consist of two private sleeping chambers, a space for entertaining guests, a private attached bathing chamber and privy as well as a personal solar large enough for two work desks. 

  It was true that Northmen were not a people to focus on fine furnishings and frivolities. But the North has not had a King or Queen since Torrhen bent the knee to a conqueror. He made sure to keep this in mind when he had ordered these chambers refurbished. 

  “Father, did you do this yourself?” She asked astonished. 

  He wanted to take the credit, but the truth was he had called upon some master carpenters that were in White Harbor, and he relied on Old Nan for a good portion of the decorating process. All of the linens were either the Red and Black of House Targaryen, or the Grey Silver and White of House Stark. As were the furnishings that were placed in the chamber decorated with the snarling Direwolf and Dragon motifs. The keep had stood empty for centuries, so he had no issue dedicating this portion of the castle to his daughter and her new House. 

  “I had some help, the furnishings are new, and Old Nan went through and did what she could to make these rooms suitable for royal visitors and of course, for her little she-wolf.” 

  Lyanna beamed, Old Nan had taken it upon herself to look after his two youngest pups after his Lyarra was no longer with them, and Lyanna had forged herself a special place in Nans heart, even if she had originally been sent here to care for a Brandon. 

  He watched her as she made her way around her new rooms. They hadn’t removed any of her belongings from her childhood chamber, unsure of what her intentions for these chambers would be, but Nan knew her well enough to place personal touches around the room. 

  On the table in the main chamber sat a vase that was filled with a dozen winter roses. A warm fire was burning in both hearths that were within the main chamber, as it was rather large, and took more to heat. 

  The hot springs were piped through the walls of the newer keep, but the First Keep was still one of the oldest buildings in Winterfell, and as such had no such comforts. Therefore, the lower store rooms were filled with kindling, and additional staff had been brought on to care for the needs of the First Keep. 

  They had not been in the rooms long before he heard the sound of the main door to their chambers open and then close once more, revealing the Crowned Prince who must’ve seen the maester back to the Maesters tower before making his way here. 

  He bowed once more in respect at his good-son. “Your Grace,” he greeted. 

  The prince smiled kindly, “My Lord, thank you so much for receiving myself and my party, especially with all that’s transpired over the past months. I’ve always wanted to see the North and I must admit you govern a beautiful country.”

  Rickard could not deny the princes words even if he wanted to. The North was singular, and unlike any place in the Seven Kingdoms. There was no place that he would rather live than within the comforts of his frozen realm. 

  “Your words are too kind, My Prince. It is an honor to have you join us here, it’s been far too long since we’ve had a Targaryen Grace these grey halls.” He returned. 

  Lyanna approached the prince and took him by the hand, leading them into the room that had been dedicated as their joined solar. “Father, would you follow us? There’s more about my motivation that I need to share with you, but I wanted to wait until Rhaegar was here.”

  His feet moved without thought, in the direction of their solar and he conducted himself into a chair that sat adjacent to a matching chaise that he had commissioned for them. Once they were all sat, he broke the silence. “So, what’s so important that it requires so much secrecy?”

  Across from him, Lyanna shared a look with her husband and then they started from the beginning. They told him about the marks, even going so far as to present them to him.  They told him about Howland Reed, of whom he was still curious about. Of how he had spent a season with the greenmen after being called there by the Old Gods and the Three Eyed Raven. They told him of the Tourney and of Lyanna dressing up as a Mystery Knight to defend the honor of his bannerman and about the King's reaction once she had refused to unmask and reveal her identity. They told him about their wedding ceremony, about the World Tree and of the seed pods that she had been spreading around the Realm ever since, including here in the North where the land called for a new seedling. 

  When she had finally finished they both told him about the Gates that they have been seeking and the ones that they have already found. Gates that he had no knowledge of, especially in Winterfell. 

  “So, now you know why I requested the First Keep and the Broken Tower. I have no idea where the gate is, but I suspect that it is in the crypts. I will know more once I open every Ironwood door in this part of the castle.”

  He needed a moment to process all of this. If this was true, and there was in fact a magic gate within the grounds there would need to be more security around this part of the castle. More thorough vetting of staff, and of course the gate would have to be well concealed and any use of it would have to be planned as well. 

  “I’ll sanction the search, but when you find it, I would ask that you speak to no one of its location outside of family and kingsguard. I won’t have people searching through the crypts or the old fortress unattended, looking for something that should remain hidden from those not sworn by blood or blood oath.” 

  Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar both looked pleased by this, and he felt himself relax a little. They had much more to discuss in the coming days, but for now he was content to allow them some time to themselves before they joined one another later on for last meal. He stood up and they stood with him, “I’ll leave you two to get better acquainted with your living chambers, you have a small staff available to you should you require anything, and hot water has already been brought up and is ready in the adjacent room.” He gestured to a closed door across the way. 

  “Thank you Father, will you be with us at last meal?” His pup asked, rising on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek the way she’s done since she was just a girl.

  He smiled fondly and pulled her in tightly, “Aye, of course I’ll be joining you. I’m so happy you’re home Lyanna, no matter how short the stay I’m just glad that you’re here.” He returned, placing her back down gently before he turned back to his good-son.

  “Winterfell is yours, Your Graces. Anything at all that you need, we are happy to provide. I should like to speak with you both on more serious matters in the coming days, but for now please rest and refresh.” 

  “Again, I thank you for your hospitality and I look forward to speaking with you in more detail in the coming days. As for tonight, it is enough that you’ve prepared these beautiful chambers for my wife and I.” The prince responded. 

  Before he could go, Lyanna called his attention once more. She had that wolfish gleam in her eye that he knew well. “Has there been a Raven from the Citadel by any chance?”

  He shook his head, “Not in some time, might I ask what you are waiting for?”

  She smiled again. “The announcement that Winter has returned of course.” She chuckled at the situation no doubt and he couldn’t stop from joining in her mirth. 

  “I’ll be sure to make sure you’re the first to know once it arrives.” She always knew and a part of him could feel the chill in the air too, but Lyanna had a way of knowing the exact moment that Winter returns. He knew better than to question her instincts. 

  “Very well, I shall see you in an hour or two if that’s okay?” Lyanna ventured. 

  “Two hours should suffice, I’ll let your brothers and our other guests know on my way out, and I will see all of you in the Great Hall soon enough.” He nodded his head in respect before exiting their chambers and then he set out to fulfill his end of the bargain. 

* * *

  **The Silver Prince**

* * *

  By the time the rest of them piled into the open courtyard Lyanna had already dismounted and was throwing herself into her father's open arms. He hadn’t expected any less, but from what he knew of his now good-father, he hadn’t expected him to be indulgent of Lyanna’s unladylike greeting. Beside them, Benjen looked equally as pleased by the sight and even some of the household smiled fondly at the father-daughter reunion.

  After dismounting his horse, Lyanna came forward and made introductions, which he was glad for. The Lord Rickard was of a height with himself, with the same blue-grey eyes as his young son Benjen, though Brandon clearly favored Rickard in size, it was Ned who favored Rickard in appearance, it was actually quite uncanny how each of them had a piece of their father. Nevertheless, their first encounter was not nearly as tense as he had prepared himself for which he could only be thankful of. 

  Once Ned stepped forward and he was free to greet the rest of those who had gathered for their arrival, he immediately scanned the rest of the yard. It did not take him long to find the person of interest who was actually standing off to the left of Lord Rickard. He squeezed Lyanna’s hand and motioned for her to come with him and she came without a fuss. 

  It took everything in him to keep his composure as he took in the visage of his great grand uncle for the first time in his life. He knew that he was losing his sight, so he was prepared to speak to announce his presence when Aemon reached out and placed a hand against his cheek.

  “My boy, it is so good to finally see you.” He greeted kindly.

  “Uncle Aemon-,” he choked. No one could truly know how much this moment meant to him, for Aemon was the closest thing to a father that he’s had, ever since his own father began his affair with madness and cruelty. He had been trying to convince his father for years to allow him to go to the Wall to visit, but he had never been given permission until now. Yet here they both were, standing amongst his wife’s kin and trusted household. “I was prepared to ride for the Wall so that I could see you. The King had finally given his permission and now it would seem that fate did not want to leave it to chance.” He finally managed to finish.

  “We have plenty of time to discuss these things, come closer let me see you.” Aemon said.

  Rhaegar wasn't sure what that meant but he did as he was bid stepping close enough to his uncle so that there was hardly more than a foot between them. Gently, his great grand uncle placed both hands upon his face and slowly ran his fingers over his brow and his nose, the bow of his upper lip, the curve of his chin and finally the shape of his jaw. When he was satisfied, he smiled warmly and released him. 

  “You look much like my Egg, you know? You have his facial structure and your eyes are a purple so dark that they seem almost black in some lights and blue in others, aren’t they?” He asked knowingly.

  All Rhaegar could do was nod, he had no idea that he shared a likeness with his great grandfather but he would treasure his uncle Aemon’s words always, and he would make sure that this would not be forgotten to the pages of history. Lyanna stood beside them both, not saying a word which he thought was strange. He turned to her and held his arm out for her to step closer which she did happily. 

  “Lyanna, might I introduce you to my great grand uncle Aemon Targaryen,” he said, stepping slightly back so that they could make a proper greeting. 

  His wife had no issue taking the lead and she did so almost immediately. “Maester Aemon, I am so happy to finally have the honor of meeting you, I feel as if I have known you my whole life based on your many ravens over the years. I am sure it is no secret that my Lord Father has had nothing but kind things to say about you, you’re a bit of a legend here in the North.”   

  His uncle smiled warmly at Lyanna before he responded, “I should like to think that the pleasure is all mine, Princess. Though, you aren’t exactly without your own brand of fame here in the North from what I've gathered. Would you mind?” Aemon returned, reaching out to map her features the way he had just done moments before with Rhaegar’s own face.

  Lyanna stepped up immediately and allowed Aemon to ‘ _see’_ her better and when he was done, she stepped back and waited. The wind began to pick up and lightly twirl around them and for a moment he thought that he could hear a ringing in the wind, similar to a chime, or the sound of a burbling stream and he wanted to ask about it, but the sound is gone and so is the wind before he could articulate his thoughts. He would ask Lyanna about this later on.

  “There is a power in you child that you still have not fully explored, a power that could heal as well as harm. Woe be to thee who seeks to cross your pack.” His uncle replied finally. 

  Lyanna beamed at his words, finding them appropriate and again he found that he could not argue that assessment. While he was trying to gather an army of men to depose his father, Lyanna was amassing an army of beasts and winter magic that could likely do more to rock the very foundations of King's Landing than anything he was seeking to accomplish with men.

  After they finished their greeting, Lyanna excused herself and returned to her father’s side to give them some time to catch up, so with Benjen’s assistance, he escorted his uncle back to the tower that he had taken residence in.

  Now that they were standing in a better lit area he had some time to take in the appearance of his uncle Aemon. At just over three and ninety years, it was a wonder that he was still able to move about on his own. His hair was the lightest shade of silver, nothing at all to indicate that this was a result of his age and Rhaegar thought perhaps this was his true coloring. His eyes were still the lightest shade of purple, even lighter than his mothers and and he could see that this was a result of his failing sight. Though to say that his uncle was without the ability to see, would be a blatant lie. Even if his uncle Aemon had yet to confirm his suspicions, he was also sure that his uncle was not any less perceptive now than he had been when he was still just a boy.

  “Mother wanted me to give you her love.” He started, not wanting to forget his mothers words.

  Aemon smiled kindly, making his way toward the roaring hearth that had been tended while he was in the yard, no doubt. The room itself wasn't cold, but he knew that it was in a dragons nature to seek the flames. “How is our beautiful Queen, and the young Prince?” 

  “The Queen endures, as I am sure you know. Though, from what I’ve heard, His Grace has been more tolerable in the past weeks since returning from Harrenhal. We suspect that it may be tied to Lyanna’s gift, but nevertheless, we are grateful for it all the same.” He responded honestly.

  “And your brother?” Aemon asked.

  Rhaegar smiled fondly,  “Viserys is ever the inquisitive child, though he prefers to stay close to the Queen. He adores Rhaenys and I do believe that she enjoys her time with him as well. I worry about him around the King though and the worst part is that I can't take him with me to Dragonstone, not even for a short while due to the King’s paranoia.”

  “Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin, my boy. Unfortunately you can not have one without the other but know that this ailment could befall any man, dragon or sheep and at the end of the day, the King is only a mere mortal man, no more.” His uncles words were straight to the point and he could not argue them if he had wanted to. “I suspect that you have much to do before tonight’s meal and I’m sure that young Benjen is still waiting to show you to your rooms, we will finish this talk later.” Aemon suggested.

  Reluctantly, Rhaegar nodded, not truly ready to depart his uncles company but knowing that he had the right of it. “Very well, I shall look for you later on, we have much to speak of.”

  “Indeed we do, now go and see to your lovely wife, I dare say it would be unwise to keep her waiting.” Aemon said in a knowing tone.

   After he departed, he followed Benjen back in the direction of the gate that they had entered through. In many ways, the castle was larger than the Red Keep, and in others it was smaller, though the grounds themselves were much more vast than those of Aegon’s High Hill. 

  He thought it ironic that his House boasted of how they established a dynasty that has lasted almost three hundred years, when this castle has stood at least eight thousand years if the histories are correct, and the King's of Winter had ruled over this land for equally as long, prior to and after Conquest. That House Targaryen had been sleeping on uniting their Houses through marriage still manages to boggle his brain.

  “Where are we heading? He asked Benjen curiously.

  “The First Keep, Father had it prepared for Lyanna and the rest of your party at her request.” Benjen informed him in a tone that suggested that he would know all about the layout of the castle.

  “Is there a reason that the Keep needed special attention?” Rhaegar couldn't help but ask. There was much about this castle and these lands that he knew nothing about, but he had plans to change that and the first step was to ask questions.

  Benjen smiled wickedly, and Rhaegar couldn't help but feel that he had fallen into a trap. “The First Keep is the second oldest structure in all of Winterfell, only surpassed by the crypts and has stood empty for longer than anyone knows. After the Great Keep was built, the family began to take up residence there and the First Keep was abandoned and eventually fell into a mild state of disrepair along with the Broken Tower. Father forbid us from entering either structure, but Lyanna wrote to him and requested that they both be prepared and so Father decided to look into them both and found the First Keep was not in too bad of shape.”

  They had arrived outside the main entrance of the First Keep by the time Benjen was done with his explanation, and he stopped to take a look around. “Any words of advice before I go inside?” He asked, only half joking.

  “Don’t worry, he’s not all bad. You should find your rooms on the top floor.” Ben replied kindly. He nodded and then made his way up to the top floor.

  When he entered the rooms at the top of the stairs he found Lyanna standing within the main chamber talking with her father so he did not interrupt them. Instead he took his cloak from around his shoulders and hung it on a hook that was placed cleverly beside the door inside the chambers.

  They seemed to be in the middle of catching up, but the moment she heard him enter, she awarded him with one of her disarming smiles that he liked to believe were reserved solely for him and she approached. After they greeted each other once more, Lyanna bid them both follow her and she conducted them to an adjoining chamber that turned out to be a study of sorts. Once they had taken their seats, she started in on the reasons that she asked to have the First Keep and the nearby tower and suddenly he was reminded of their dream from the voyage to Dragonstone and her motivations were clear as day to him. What was even more important was that Rickard agreed without argument to allow them to search for the gate, which was of course a top priority. 

   Now that Lord Rickard had departed, he wasted not one moment pulling her into his arms and pressing a searing kiss against her beautiful full lips. He felt like a man starved of oxygen, having to guard himself around others but having her alone now was too tempting, he needed to hold her in his arms, so he went for it. 

  Once he was sure he could control himself again, he retreated, never losing contact, but he moved far enough away so that they could speak. He wanted to talk to her about the breeze he felt when they first entered Winterfell but first he had to cool his wife’s lusty temper. He chuckled, just looking at how put out she was by his hasty retreat. 

  Pulling her by the arm, he conducted them over to one of the many chaises that were placed within the spacious chambers and he pulled her into his lap. “I’ve no intention to be cruel to you, but we have other things that must take precedence. For example, you and I both need to bathe before we are expected to meet with your father and I wanted to speak with you about something I noticed while you were making your introductions with my uncle Aemon.”

  This seemed to have caught her attention and he knew then that his distraction had worked. “What did you notice?” She asked.

  He wasn't sure how to describe what it was, nor could he sit there and say nothing so he just let the words tumble from his mouth. “My uncle had just finished mapping your features when I noticed the wind pick up and swirl around you, and don’t laugh but I’m pretty sure I heard the sound of bells or a flowing stream lingering on the wind. Did you hear it too?” It sounded as ridiculous out loud as it had when he thought it, but there it was and he was fairly certain he hadn’t imagined it.

  Lyanna only smiled and then she leaned in and kissed him gently on his lips before she stood and took his hand. “Come my love, help me out of these clothes and into the bath.” 

  He wasn't quite sure what just happened, but like a dragon to a flame he was up and moving toward what he assumed was the bathing chamber, only too happy to see to her every need.

* * *

**The She-Wolf**

* * *

  She couldn’t believe how much work her father had done to the First Keep, and she most certainly never expected that it would have been finished by the time they arrived. Looking at it now though, she wasn’t sure how her father had managed to keep her from fully exploring it for five and ten years. She was hardly able to stop herself from searching the rest of it. In fact, the only thing keeping her inside her chamber now that her Lord Father was gone was her husbands crooked grin. 

  “What’s that silly grin all about?” She questioned, suspiciously.

  He chose action rather than words and he crossed the distance to her and pulled her in for a searing kiss. Instinctually she wrapped her arms around him and leaned into his figure, wanting more of whatever he was offering her but to her disappointment he broke the contact of their lips and retreated just a bit. 

   _Never a good idea…_ she nearly snarled at the loss of him. 

  “Why do you always do that to me? It’s quite cruel you know?” She pouted, earning a lighthearted chuckle from him which only fueled her ire more. 

  Nevertheless she sat there and listened to him while he explained what had caught his attention and she knew exactly what he was speaking of. 

  So, after having him help her bathe and dress again she had shown him to the Godswood for the first time. Her father must have known that she would come, because every torch was lit to brighten the pathway that led them through the lichyard and the Old Ward in the direction of the arches that separated the Godswood from the rest of the castle. 

  As they passed by the doors of the crypts Rhaegar paused and gave the doors a curious look. “Something amiss?” She asked, curious.

  Turning back to her, Rhaegar shook his head. “What does that lead to?” He questioned. 

  She raised an eyebrow. “The past Lords and King’s of Winter. This is the entrance to the crypts, why do you ask?” They continued walking toward the Godswood, but she couldn’t miss the lingering looks he cast backward to the crypts. 

  “Just a feeling— I can't describe it, as I’ve never experienced such a feeling before but it’s like there’s something calling to me.” He explained. 

  She didn’t know what to think about that, she had been in the crypts many times to visit her mother, and light the candles, yet the only thing she had ever felt were the piercing stares of the ancient king's and cruel Lords that had governed the North for thousands of years. “We shall look there for the gate first then. I admit, I’ve never felt such a pull, but if you say something is calling to you, then who am I to argue?”

  Rhaegar nodded, knowing that there was aught else to say on the subject. “Where are we going?”

  “You asked me about the wind earlier,” she began. Her husband raised a brow, understanding crossing over his features. “And I’m going to answer your question, now hush, or you’ll miss it.”

  Taking his hand, she pulled him deeper into the forest, under a canopy of green and yellow, and red and orange leaves, until finally they were nearing the center of the woods where her family has said their prayers and marriage vows as well as made their own sacrifices to the nameless ones for as long as there were people here to call this land their home. 

  The first thing that marked their location was the pool that ran along the back grey walls of the guest houses. Rhaegar observed everything with the utmost attention to detail and a part of her swooned over the way he put so much care into the things that mattered the most to her. The sanctuary was like a world all its own, no matter what time of day you chose to visit. Whenever she would pass over the boundary that separated the rest of the castle from the Godswood it felt like time was at a standstill. This was part of the reason she loved it here the best. 

  Just before the trees broke apart to reveal the heart tree she turned to her husband. “You say you felt the wind, and heard something within it, well you’re right. It was a welcome home, from the Nameless Ones. I was eager to come here but we had my father to deal with. Are you ready?” 

  Rhaegar nodded, a kind smile playing at the edges of his mouth. She wasn’t sure why she felt butterflies in her stomach but there they were. “Close your eyes.” She felt like a child, wanting to surprise her favorite person with something she deemed worthy of their attention. 

  Carefully, she navigated him out of the woods and into the clearing where the Heart Tree has sat silently brooding for more than twelve thousand years. She skirted around the cold pool, and once they were near enough she gave him permission to open his eyes. 

  “I’ve been coming here since the day my mother was able to climb from her birthing bed to bring me. I know the face of this tree better than mine own it feels like. In fact, I can’t recall a day of my life until recently that I haven’t been within this sanctuary.” She told him, not caring to mask the pride she felt knowing that she has served her Gods dutifully. But the truth was, she had never felt the whisper of the Nameless Old Gods anywhere outside of the Godswood, until now. She was equally curious about the greeting.

  She let go of his hand and made her way over to the Heart Tree so that she could take a seat on the twisted root that had grown out of the earth and was large enough to serve as a bench and she placed her palm against it's old wizened face, whispering a greeting of her own back to them. 

  She heard the sound of Rhaegar approach, and then movement from above her. When she looked up, the upper branches of the tree were covered in ravens. There had to have been at least a hundred of them perched there, watching them with keen interest. “You know, the day I went searching for you in the Godswood at Harrenhal after you presented as the mystery knight… well, I had no idea where to go and then a raven came swooping from the trees and cawed  what I thought to be the word _‘Queen’_  before flying off in the direction of where you were. I had no clue where to begin, but I took a leap of faith and it lead me to you.” He told her, no doubt attempting to make sense of what was going on. 

  She nodded, “They have been with us since we arrived in the North I think. It certainly felt as if they have been close by.” She would have said more, but she heard more movement from somewhere behind her, and she spun around to see what approached only to be met by three sets of eyes, silver, emerald and blue-grey.

  Shadow approached her knowingly and pressed her side up against Lyanna before circling around and eventually choosing a place beside her feet, where she could remain close by. The other two Direwolves followed suit, first presenting themselves to her in greeting before curling up around their Alpha female. The sight warmed her heart, reminding her that she had another portion of her pack awaiting them in the great hall. 

  They weren’t in a terrible rush so together, they sat, under the cover of crimson leaves and bone white wood, familiarizing themselves with the newest members of their family and this new home that her husband could now consider himself a part of. Every now and again, the branches of the tree would rustle in response to something one or both of them said, and eventually Rhaegar came to understand that the Gods answer to those willing to listen. 

  After a time, they both stood and made their way back toward the Great Hall, where they were both sure everyone was waiting for them. 

* * *

   **The Silver Prince**

* * *

  On the following day, after spending an obscene amount of time convincing his wife that they couldn't stay abed any longer than they already had, he bathed and broke his fast with the rest of their party before he joined up with Oswell and Ned to go meet Lord Rickard and his great uncle in the Maesters Tower. 

  The yard was abuzz with activity even though the sun had hardly broken the horizon, men and women went about their tasks in a practiced manner and even the youngest Stark; Benjen was there moving through drills with the master at arms. He knew it would be too soon for Lyanna to join them openly, but he held out hope that she would eventually relent and throw caution to the wind. He knew that she had plans to train with Arthur today, which brought him a small measure of satisfaction, but he made plans to speak privately with his good-father later on, once this business with Walys was settled. 

  It didn’t take long for them to reach the tower and in no time at all, they were being ushered into the study that Lord Rickard had provided to his uncle while he was there to assist them in this matter. There was a large desk situated in the center of the chamber, quite a few chairs had been placed around the table, and laying on top of the table were five separate stacks of parchment, one from each of the implicated factions that Lord Rickard had written of; The Hightower, Casterly Rock, King's Landing, the Vale of Arryn and the Citadel.

  His uncle was seated closest to the hearth, Lord Rickard entered shortly after themselves, so he moved around the table and selected the chair closest to his uncle, and waited for his good-father to begin. 

  “I would like to thank you for joining us, I trust that you were able to brief the King about all of this?” Lord Rickard's question was directed at him. 

  “I sent a messenger before we departed Dragonstone, he is aware.” Rhaegar replied.

  “Very good,” Rickard gestured for everyone to take their seats. “I’m sure that most of us here are aware of why we are meeting here, and why I’ve called maester Aemon from the Wall to assist me through all of this. I suppose I should start at the beginning.” 

  They sat and listened while Lord Rickard narrated the list of events that lead up to his search of the maester Walys chambers, even going as far as mentioning the rider that he had dispatched to deliver his warning and his request. The fact that Lyanna had been so against the maester only solidified his resolve to end this man.

  “I never believed that I would uncover evidence that is far more damning than him simply acting behind my back in regards to Lya’s betrothal. But here we are, and I’m afraid that we are not the only victims of this conspiracy.” Rickard finished.

  Beside him Aemon spoke next. “It would seem that the Citadel, as well as a few factions outside of the Citadel have been plotting to get rid of any lingering magical influence in the realm, and after the dragons were dealt with, they set their attention toward the North and on House Stark in particular. It would seem that the Pact between our two Houses caused quite a stir after the Dance of Dragons, and they have been making strides to keep this pact from being fulfilled ever since.” 

  He listened as his uncle outlined the conspiracy that had been put into place almost thirty years previous, before he had even been born, before the tragedy of Summerhall and his great grandfather had perished in the flames trying to bring dragons into the world. He spoke of the ritual that went wrong, and the believed conspiracy that _almost_ led to the fall of his House.

  “Unfortunately, these communications only show us one end of the conspiracy, as I’m certain that he is just one of many parts of this treacherous web. From what I was able to gather from all of this,” his uncle gestured toward the various missives. “There is clear interest from the Hightower’s and their various minions within the citadel to see that dragons do not return to the realm. Now that they have managed to dilute the blood of the dragon and they were successful at keeping the pact from being fulfilled they are closer than ever to achieving their goal. The only problem was the House of the Direwolf and your next to impeccable bloodline. Until you, My Lord, House Stark has managed to keep Andal blood out of the ruling line, but with your Heir’s impending betrothal to Catelyn Tully, and the pressure to join your female line to the House of the Stag, it’s blatantly clear that what they intended was a transition of the monarchy. A stag is much more easily manipulated than a dragon or a wolf.” Aemon spoke clearly and concisely, and never once did he allow himself to show preference toward one faction or the other. 

  “Where does Grand Maester Pycelle play into all of this?” He found himself asking. 

  Aemon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and without warning, a feeling of foreboding swelled inside his heart. It was his good-father that chose to answer his question. 

  “From what we can tell, the maesters have been passing information back and forth, pregnancies, live births, sex of the babes, betrothals between both Houses etc. But it’s the communication between Pycelle and the Rock that is most suspicious. As are the communications between Zacchary and Walys. They were also communicating back and forth in this same regard.” Rickard explained, but he was left with more questions than answers. 

  “What do either maester have to do with any of this?” He asked frustrated.

  This time it was Oswell who spoke up. “They were conspiring to make Cersei your wife by making sure Lyanna was never presented to court. And Pycelle has been Tywin Lannister’s creature for years. I think what they are saying is, they have been taking strides to ensure Cersei was your only viable option. Ever since the moment your Lord Father set his sights upon the Lady Joanna, Lord Tywin has been working to pay him back for the humiliation.” 

  He was starting to understand now. “And my mother’s babes? Her stillbirths, and miscarriages… are you implying that Pycelle could be responsible, at least in part?” He needed to stand up, he needed to move around, sitting still was not going to cool his ire… he was raging inside, an inferno threatening to consume him. 

  Aemon looked at him then, a sadness that went deeper than the sea reflected in the light violet of his eyes. “There are no words that can begin to convey the despair I’ve felt since learning this truth. But the truth is, this would not be the first time that these things have happened and I fear it won’t be the last. People will cross the world, hunt treasure, face off with a dragon and risk losing their lives for a taste of power, and a dragon king with no dragons is not really a king… he is simply a man, just like all of the rest of them. Why should one mortal man fear another mortal man? This is why it’s imperative that they dilute the magic holding bloodlines in the realm. A man with a dragon is subject to no man. Take away the ability to rule over the skies, and they are land dwellers like the rest, easy prey for the predators.” 

  He turned his attention back toward Lord Rickard, “Tell me My Lord, after you take dragons out of the equation, who is the next most magical and powerful House by those standards? Whose House has commanded the loyalty and respect of their people, unchecked for thousands of years? Even without a familiar as fearsome as a fire breathing dragon, House Stark’s magical lineage is no secret among the Seven Kingdoms. The latent ability to skin change, to warg, to green-see among the many other magical connections your ancestors have managed to breed into your line has long since been a source of worry to the learned men at the Citadel. Your daughter commands the largest pack of Direwolves ever documented in history. The implications of what a union between our two lines could produce would certainly be enough to warrant keeping eyes on you and your line. Please understand, what I’m saying is not speculation but absolute certainty, the magic that your line possesses is enough to roll back generations of Andal influence in our magical line, that and the fact that the Faith of the Seven have never had a handhold in Winterfell, a union between our two Houses could ruin everything that the Citadel, the Hightower's and the Faith have been working to eliminate ever since the start of King Aenys rule when he wed Aegon to Rhaena. But this whole conspiracy suggests that there were moves being made to eliminate House Targaryen for good.” 

  Aemon turned his attention back to himself and he spoke again. “Unfortunately, your father's condition has only convinced them that their ambitions serve a greater good. If you hadn’t been marked and matched to the Lady Lyanna, I fear that the alliances between the North, Vale, Riverlands and Stormlands would have sealed the fates of our House. And Tywin would have remained aloof until a clear winner was determined. He may even still.”

  “And Robert?” Both he and Ned asked in unison.

  “There was no active conspiracy on Robert’s part to wed Lyanna without the support of her Lord Father, even so, he never questioned the assurances made by maester Walys, nor did he seek confirmation that Lord Rickard had made a decision. In fact, it's my belief, based on the missives that were sent by Robert that he knew he was speaking directly to the maester and not Lord Rickard. Though we aren’t able to confirm this without a copy of the raven scrolls that were sent to Robert.” Aemon replied. 

  “Have either of you spoken with Walys since his treason was revealed?” Rhaegar found himself asking. 

  “There are guards that are assigned to him, and I check in with them daily. He is currently being held in a cell, though he is fed three meals a day, and is sleeping on a feather bed rather than straw.” Lord Rickard responded. 

  “I met with him a sennight past, I wanted to get the measure of him, let him know that his duties were being taken care of. I said nothing of the current investigation, he did not bother asking either.” His uncle added. 

  Rhaegar nodded, unsure of where to go from here. There were obviously matters that would need to be transferred to King’s Landing, though he worried what lingering effects this situation would leave behind once it was properly presented to his father and the Small Council. He had much to think over, of this he knew with certainty. 

  “I would like to take the time to properly review these missives if it’s not too much trouble. After, I think we should lead with an interrogation.” He finally decided. 

  “Yes, of course.” Rickard replied, standing from his seat. “How Long will you need before you’re ready to proceed?”

  “I should be ready in no more than two days. Lyanna will want to be brought up to speed as well. Is this acceptable?”

  “Quite,” Rickard confirmed. “I shall leave you to it then. However, should you find yourself in need of me, you can find me in my solar.” He turned his attention to his good-brother.

  “Ned, would you mind accompanying me? I would like to arrange a time to meet with you and your Lady Wife.” Rickard added. 

  Nodding, his good-brother stood from his seat and excused himself to follow his father, leaving himself, Oswell and his great uncle alone to talk for a while longer.

  He felt empty after hearing all that his uncle and good-father had said about this conspiracy. It was one thing to grow up knowing that your life did not belong to yourself, but to the realm. It was another thing entirely to know that regardless of your sacrifices for the betterment of the realm, that there would still be those who would not be satisfied. That there are still those who want more than what they have, or deserve, and even more who would bring about the ruin of many so that they can have complete power over the masses. 

  He wanted none of it, yet it had been thrust upon him all the same and it would be thrust upon his son, and his sons son after him. Those who seek power are those who feel that they have none, yet given the chance, he would gladly run off and live in peace so long as that meant he could keep his mate and his loved ones safe and at his side. 

  Unfortunately, in order for him to keep his loved ones safe he would have to make sure that those who would see them harmed in any capacity were put down. The only way to save humanity as a whole would be for the realm to be united, yet he had no idea how he would do any of this.

  His attention was interrupted by the sound of his uncles chair scraping against the stone floor. He looked up to see Aemon crossing the room toward what looked like a trunk that did not match any of the furnishings within the chamber, so he could only assume that he had brought the trunk with him from the Wall. 

  “Uncle, is there something I can assist you with?” He asked, preparing to stand but Aemon waved him off and called for Oswell to come over and help him with two long bundles, a large flat rectangular box that had thick leather straps bound around it to keep it closed, and a few other objects. 

  Once his uncle was satisfied with the things he had managed to gather, he instructed Oswell to bring them over and place them on the table in front of him, before crossing the room and taking up the same chair he had been sitting in just moments before. 

  Rhaegar eyed the packages suspiciously, unsure of what his uncle was up to, but he waited patiently for answers to come rather than ask the questions that were on the tip of his tongue. 

  “I’m sure you’re curious about what all of this is…” Aemon began.

* * *

  **The She-Wolf**

* * *

   The following day, Rhaegar and Ned had piled into the maesters study to pour over the documents that her Lord Father had recovered in his search of Walys communications. And while Rhaegar did that, she and Arthur tucked themselves away in the Godswood where she was more comfortable training to use her sword. The wolves, to her amusement never left her side save when she was busy with matters that kept her inside or when she was in her own chambers with Rhaegar. 

  Her father had explained how he believed Shadow to be linked with her, in the same way that the Starks of old were linked with their wolves. What he didn’t know was that she was already aware of this. Not only had Howland explained the dynamics of warging but after her dream where she saw them the first time, she had also dreamt that she was seeing through her wolves eyes on more than one occasion.

  She would tell him everything in due time she eventually decided, there was much to do, and many more matters much more pressing than her magical abilities to skin-change and warg. Especially when the one ability she needed to develop was more centered around her affinity to ice, while Rhaegar as it turned out, needed to wake the dragon. 

  While they did that, Lyanna made a point to show Ashara around Winterfell, she had no idea what the future held for any of them, but if her dreams were any indication of what was to come, something told her that the both of them, as well as their future children would be spending a great deal of time running through Winterfell’s grey halls. As such, knowing her way around the Keep would only help Ashara more.

  They had yet to make a decision in regards to where they would live, but a part of her hoped that Ned would choose to remain close to her this time. It had been bad enough when Father had sent Ned away to the Eyrie, but now that he was back, and she didn’t have to fear him leaving her again in favor of Robert, she couldn’t stomach the thought of him living on the opposite side of the realm. She wanted her brother’s close, all of them, including Bran. Even if he was a drunken lecher, who was torn between duty and desire most of the time.

  With all the fuss over Walys, her father had asked her to sit in his place while Rhaegar, maester Aemon, Ned and himself conducted their investigation. So, whenever they had a petitioner come, she and Ashara would greet them together in the Great Hall, while Lyanna sat in the chair of the Old King's and High Lords. If anyone thought it odd, no one said a word, though this was far from the first time that she had sat as the Stark ruling Winterfell over the years, it was almost a regular thing when she was younger in fact. Though, her Lord Father was typically away on a progress through the North while she sat in his seat, not in the Maesters Tower as he had been the past two days.

  The fact was, many people seemed more than pleased to have her back and she wholeheartedly felt the same, especially in regards to one particular individual. And that special person was none other than Old Nan, who had demanded that she come and hug her the very moment she was free from the ever watchful eye of her husband and guards.

 Over the past couple of days, Nan had made it a point to get to know Ned’s new wife. And Lyanna found the whole situation endearing. She had only ever seen Nan with herself and her brothers, so to witness her take to a complete stranger was something Lyanna never thought she would see in her lifetime. All the same, Ashara and she would find themselves in the constant company of her old nursemaid and Lyanna found that there was a kind of comfort to always having her close by, running off the younger girls who were assigned to helping them with bathing etc. If Ashara was put out by Old Nans antics, she never let on about it and so, each morning or evening, she found herself being ushered into her bathing chambers and fussed over, until Old Nan was content with her work, then she would excuse herself to go and see to Ashara as well. 

  It was on the second day following their arrival that they were finally granted the opportunity to search for the gate of Ice. Of course she had looked briefly through the First Keep, but she had known almost immediately that it was not there. As for the Broken Tower, she knew that it served a purpose, but if sacrifice was the reason that the gates existed in the first place, she had a feeling that the Broken Tower did not meet that criteria. So, she had taken it upon herself during her many hours alone to work out where the most likely location for the gate would be.

  On Dragonstone, she was only able to locate the gate once the Ironwood door that had been blocking it's magical signal had been moved aside. With that in mind she was left with two options. The gate was either in a secret cave within the Godswood, or it was behind the doors leading to the crypts. And after thinking over things some more, on Rhaegar’s reaction the first night they passed by them, on what he said about something calling to him, she knew that this had to be the first place they explored. 

  The air to the crypts was pleasantly cool, the way she had always remembered it to be. The ironwood door at the entrance was twelve inches thick, and banded with thick iron bars. But the hinges were well oiled, and this journey not unfamiliar to her. Ned and she walked side by side, bringing their unfamiliar guests with them. Once the great ironwood door was pulled aside, she felt an odd pulse that she hadn’t noticed before. Each time they passed a wall sconce either Ned or herself would light it, but each time they approached a landing that led to another level of the ancient crypts, Lyanna would reach out and feel for the pull of the ice gate. When nothing came, they would abandon that level and continue downward.

  She had been shocked when the old maester had asked to accompany them, but she saw no reason to deny his request, other than the fact that he was nearly a century in age but that was quickly sorted out when Nan sent Hodor to help him make the journey. When she had raised her concern about the many flights of stairs that he would have to traverse Nan simply stated that Hodor would carry him if he became fatigued. Why Old Nan was so adamant about him going along was beyond her understanding, but Rhaegar had assured her that all would be well and so, both, Hodor and Aemon had also joined them. 

  The crypts beneath Winterfell were the first thing built on this land, historians wrote that Brandon the Builder spent more time below the earth building the crypts than he did building the castle that sits above the surface. The grounds cover five miles it’s believed, yet the crypts extended far outside the inner and outer ring walls, making them the largest segment of the castle. Both the Giant's and the Children were said to have aided in its construction, and there was a part of her that always believed that the Weirwood above them fed off the memories of the now deceased King’s of Winter, and that this was the reason that there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Though she had never voiced these suspicions aloud. 

  She found herself looking back periodically at Rhaegar, watching his features for anything that resembled recognition, but like her, whenever they reached a new level and there was no pull, she knew that they had not completed their search and as such they continued on to the lowest levels of the crypts, where ironically the air had started to warm infinitesimally. 

  She knew immediately where they were, long ago the lower levels of the Crypts had a collapse and as such they were no longer deemed safe to visit. Though if anyone asked her how long ago the collapse had been, she doubted she could answer with assurity. This was one of those subjects that were better off left unquestioned, for all she knew the cave in happened long before conquest.

  By now, a good portion of them had managed to carry a torch, save Hodor and Aemon, who had managed to come stand beside Rhaegar. She felt nervous, a fluttering in her chest, but Ned reached out to her and threaded her arm into his, lending her is quiet strength that she unknowingly needed in this moment. 

  “It’s here isn’t it?” Ned inquired.

  “Not just the gate,” Howland's voice rose up in answer. She had almost forgotten his presence. 

  Her head snapped back to meet the eyes of her guide. “What else could be down here?”

  “Tell me you know the lore of Dragon eggs in the crypts?” Aemon questioned.

  She had heard many times about Jacaerys Velaryon and his dragon Vermax who was believed to have left a clutch of eggs deep within, near where the hot springs ran closest to the walls… Though she had never turned up any of her own in any of her many searches of them. “How can you be so certain?” She questioned.

  “I can feel them.” Rhaegar answered.

  Aemon smiled warmly, “As can I. The blood will out, my dear, blood calls to blood. We can no more ignore their call than you can ignore the call of the gate now that we are here.” The old maester explained. Though what his words implied were something she had yet to wrap her head around. 

  “I suppose that we should continue then, hmm?” Ned prompted, bringing her back to the matter at hand. 

  She nodded, and together, they led the way into the lowest level of the crypts. She and Ned swept their torches in a semi circle, revealing the long row of granite pillars that matched ahead, two by two. Between them sat the ancient Winter King's on their granite Thrones, with their ever faithful Direwolves carved into the stone at their feet. The statues this low were not unlike the ones above, aside from the crown of Winter that adorned each of the heads of the Old King's and the iron swords that lay across their laps were all but rusted away into nothing in certain places. 

  “What is the significance of denying guest right?” Arthur asked from somewhere behind them. 

  “The swords are there to keep the spirits locked in their tombs, lest they walk the halls and haunt the inhabitants of the castle. Winterfell was built following the Long Night, and the legends state that the others hate the smell of hot blood and iron. It’s said that the Old King’s of winter were as hard and  unyielding as the land they ruled over, these swords are there as much for those who live as they are to assure that our ancestors remain at rest down below the earth. However, we don’t have anything in our library that expressly explains to us why. But the denial of Guest Right is something I’ve never considered, as It's typically only those of Stark Blood that come down here.” Ned answered.

  When put into words such as these, Lyanna couldn't help but to wonder if this practice had anything to do with the first long night, and whether this setup was Brandon’s way of preventing her ancient kin from serving as mindless slaves in the army of the dead. 

  “Has no one ever told you how it feels to someone that does not share Stark blood?” Oswell piped in. 

  “Nay, I can’t say that they have.” Ned replied.

  Lyanna looked back toward the rest of their group, wondering what they were talking about, but it was Rhaegar who answered. “It feels unwelcoming, as if we aren’t wanted here, and are trespassing. There’s a feeling, like a compulsion to leave.”

  They continued on for a while longer, not wanting to interrupt the uneasy silence that had settled over their party once it had been established that they weren’t quite welcome down here. But eventually they came upon the collapse and they could move no further. 

  “It’s here, I can feel it,” she announced to the rest of them. “We need to clear these stones.” She prompted them, not caring who stepped forward. 

  To her relief, Arthur and Oswell shouldered forward to the front of their procession, intent on surveying the wall of rocks that blocked their path. And without so much of a word, Ned, Rhaegar and Hodor stepped forward as well and began to pull away at the stones, a little at a time until there was enough space for a small person to climb through. 

  Not wanting to let her impatience show, she busied herself by looking around. She had never come this far into the crypts, not even when she used to play _‘Hide and Find’_ with Bran and Ben. She had never felt anything but a chill down here, never the compulsion to leave, though she could not claim to feel at ease down here either. This was a place for resting, not for exploring, not for treasure seeking. It was a Stark Place and if they felt anything it was that reminder. This crypt was only a small portion of the whole… her people were as much apart of the land as the Weirwoods that stand silent vigil. Those who did not cross before the arm of Dorne was shattered have no true claim, those who have never tended a Weirwood, or learned the songs of the earth… they could never hope to feel welcome in a place such as this… but Rhaegar? He could, there was no doubt in her mind, he was different from anyone she had ever met before, and in her heart she knew that he could bring about a change that could begin healing the land.

  She was standing in front of a statue of a Stark who’s name had long since faded from the stone it had been etched into when Rhaegar called to her that they had cleared a path large enough to move through. Not wasting a moment, she turned on her heel and made her way back to join them. 

  The path ahead was indeed clear, though darker than she had expected but it made no matter, sidestepping everyone she pushed through, sweeping the torch out so that it could catch any lingering cobwebs, or send slumbering bats fleeing. On the opposite side of the cave in, she stopped dead in her tracks. 

  It made no sense to her, she stepped toward the first  statue on her left and passed her torch over the tomb, but found it open and empty. She moved to the next, and found that it was in the same condition as the previous, as was the next and the ones following that one. It wasn't possible that these tombs were never filled, as each of them had been carved and engraved, yet there was nothing here to indicate that there had ever been anyone laid to rest deep down here in this darkness.

  Up ahead she could hear the faint sound of water, and she could feel the pull of the gate even stronger than she had before the stones had been pulled away, as if they too, had been blocking the magical signature of the Gate. She could hear Ned speaking in low tones with Ashara and maester Aemon but she moved on, away from the rest of them in search of the gate. 

  She vaguely registered the footsteps that followed  her as she moved deeper into the lower level until she reached a part in the wall where the tombs ended and the crypts took a sudden right turn. It was there that she found a segment where the wall faded away and revealed the natural earth that the crypts had been dug from. Where stone walls had once been the barrier between where the earth stopped and the halls of dead King's began was now a wall that was covered in Weirwood roots. Somehow the Heart Tree’s roots were sunk so deeply into the earth that they managed to claim a section of the crypts for them self. Yet even more shocking was that a natural pool had developed and beside the pool were a clutch of six dragon eggs. She bent down low to check them out, and was shocked to find that they felt similar to the way her mark felt after she and Rhaegar had sealed their bond. Not overly hot, but not cold stone either...

  They were an assortment of colors, ranging from indigo with silver whirls, black with silver and white flecks, opal and onyx, crimson and white, a deep grey with silver and pale blue with diamond flecks. Each of them were unbelievably beautiful, each one unlike the next, what’s more was that the eggs themselves were abnormally large, and this was confirmed when maester Aemon finally entered the space that she, Rhaegar, Arthur and Oswell were currently occupying. 

  Beside her, Rhaegar helped Aemon move closer and she could see the shock and wonder on his face. She felt the need to speak but she was unsure of what to say. For she had no idea when the last time either of them had seen a dragon egg was. so she just spoke the first thing that came to her mind. 

  “Have you ever seen a dragon egg in your lifetime?” She wasn’t sure who the question was directed toward, not that it mattered, someone would answer. 

  “When I was just a babe my grandfather had an egg placed in each of my brother and sisters cradles, my own was a pale lilac with silver and cobalt whorls, though I dare say that it was much smaller than any of these.” Aemon replied.

  “What happened to it?” She found herself asking. 

  “The centuries have turned it to stone, but it has always been a treasure to me. The one thing I was able to bring with me when I sailed North all those years ago. I might have left it with Egg if Lord Bloodraven hadn’t counseled me to keep it close. And so, on the day I set sail, I tucked my own egg away in my trunk and it has never been far from my side.” He answered, without really answering. 

   Not wanting to lose track of why she had come, she gave Rhaegar’s Hand a gentle squeeze and then excused herself to study the wall of Weirwood that had taken over this segment of the crypts. It must have went on for at least twenty feet or more before the wall segment turned back to stone and then ended abruptly. If she turned around she could faintly see where the earth had been moved aside in some places to make room for something large. It looked as if something had made this place a lair of some sort at some point in time. The question was, what was it, and how exactly did it get in?

  She turned back to face the wall, she could feel the thrum of magic pulsing off of it in waves, yet this looked nothing like the first gate at the Isle of Faces, nor did it resemble the gate in the hidden chamber on Dragonstone. Not only was it not a classic arch, she could not make out how she was meant to activate it, supposing that this was indeed the gate. 

  Standing quietly in the corner, Lyanna noticed Howland observing her with interest. “What am I missing?” She asked. 

  “Only the proper place to make the offering.” Howland answered knowingly.

  She hadn’t had to make the offering on the isle, but she had made an offering at the God's Eye. She glanced back toward the small pool where she had found the eggs and noticed that the roots of the Weirwood extended there as well, creating a basin of sorts and she was reminded of all the times that her father would clean Ice after an execution, how he had made the blood offering to the Nameless Ones by cleansing their ancestral blade in the reflection pool, and what was her magic if not a reflection of the element she was able to harness?

  She approached the pool without hesitation and kneeled, pulling her dagger from her hip and she looked around. “Everyone step away from the wall, I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She cautioned, and waited for them to move aside. When she was satisfied with their distance, she centered herself, reaching deep within for that tug that told her she had touched her power and then she slid the sharp end of the blade over the meat of her palm.

   There was always pain that accompanied the reopening of her offering line, but when her magic was singing within her, she felt not a thing. She watched as her hot blood welled into her hand and she closed it into a fist before plunging it into the water. At the same time she pulled on her gift and imagined it pushing outward and electrifying the roots that were both woven through and criss crossed into the earth. 

  Before she opened her eyes, she sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods, hoping that she had found the gate and managed to activate it and then she took a leap of faith and cracked her eyes open just enough so that she could see that the wall had lit up from one end to the other with a blinding bluish white light. 

  “By the Gods…” she heard Aemon mutter from somewhere nearby, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the gate. They had done it, they had finally created a link between the North, the Riverlands, and Dragonstone, and with any luck, Valyria and the Wall.

  She chanced a glance at Arthur who wore a look of relief on his face, no doubt because he was nervous about missing out on Elia’s time and being so far away from her in the last moons of her pregnancy. Seeing him like this made her smile and reminded her that she should check in on Sky to see if there are any developments on Dragonstone but for now, she had her work cut out for her. 

  As amazing as it was to have found the gate, knowing it was here meant protecting the knowledge that it exists. It meant that this segment of the castle was no longer safe to allow people to walk about without a guard. It would mean spending time down here, to learn more about this space, and figuring out what happened to the Starks that had once been lain to rest down here but were no longer inside of their tombs. 

  She would have to make plans to meet with her father and soon, now that the gate is found and active. 

* * *

  **The Knowing One**

* * *

  Aemon had been at Winterfell just over a sennight when word of his Great Nephew’s arrival to White Harbor had reached them. He hadn’t been this excited in more than forty years. Not since the day he watched his Egg be crowned king had he felt such joy. 

  Though he and Rhaegar had spoken often over the years and made plans many times for him to visit, nothing of the sort had happened. Once Aerys had taken the throne and invited in Lord Tywin Lannister to be his Hand, any hope for a promising future was all but dashed away. He had known this would be the case when news of the Lions' decision to roll back Aegon’s charters reached him at the Wall. 

  When Aerys had been taken captive at Duskendale, and the news of his rescue had reached him, he’d hoped that Aerys would release Tywin as his hand but then, news came of his nephews mental decline, and how the King had even grown mistrustful of his own heir. And that is when he had realized that Rhaegar  might never be permitted the chance to come. 

  He had been there for nearly a fortnight by the time the Royal party was seen. When he heard the horns announcing them, he called for some help and prepared himself to go and greet them with the rest of the Household. It wasn't required of him, with him being here for a specific matter and not to serve the castle in a more permanent fashion, but this was his kin and he would not miss the chance to greet him for all the Dragons in the world.  

  By the time he made his way from the Maesters Tower, the entire yard was filled and their Lord was standing at the front of the party. The castle had been abuzz since the break of dawn, hard at work preparing  for the arrival of their Lady and her new Royal husband. 

  Not wanting to disturb them, he moved to stand off to the side and not long after he could hear the hoofbeats of two mounts and then two figures burst into the courtyard. The first one to enter the gate was female, followed by none other than the young wolf; Benjen. If he’d had to guess, the woman was the she-wolf and his now good-niece, and right on her heels were the three Direwolves that he had seen roaming around the castle in the time since he had arrived. She was already off her mount and embracing her Lord Father by the time the rest of her traveling party entered the courtyard. 

  By no means was their party small, though it wasn’t so big that he could not point out his kinsmen, Ser Arthur looked much like his own mother, though he possessed the lighter coloring, but it was the Lady Ashara who most resembled the late Princess Dyanna, with her raven locks and stunning  violet eyes. Not that he could see them clearly from his position, he only knew that this was the case because Rhaegar had described them both to him long ago.

  His great-grand-nephew cut quite the image, riding in on a stallion that was as black as midnight. He was taller than Aemon had imagined and his hair was the palest shade of golden-silver. Looking at him, no one would have been able to guess that he possessed both Dayne and Blackwood blood. Aemon felt his chest swell with pride, looking at the next king of Westeros.

  He said nothing, made no move to approach the newcomers. Instead, he waited in the shadows for introductions to finish being made. Rhaegar would come to him once he was able. If being on the Wall had taught him anything, it was patience. 

  As suspected, the moment Lord Eddard stepped forward with the Lady Ashara, Rhaegar’s eyes scanned the yard and when they found him, his nephews face transformed from solemn and serious into one of barely contained excitement. He would have approached him, but Rhaegar beat him to it, bringing the Lady Lyanna along. 

  After introductions were made, he asked them both for permission to map their faces. He could see them both, though his eyesight had begun failing him a few years back, so he was quite grateful to them both for indulging him.

  After a few moments, the yard was emptied, and Lyanna excused herself so that she could give them both some time alone, which he was glad for. His great nephew resembled Egg, a face he hadn’t thought to ever see again and he told Rhaegar as much. 

  They claim that when a Targaryen dies, they burn the bodies so that one day they could be reborn as a dragon. If this were true, Rhaegar was reborn from his great grandsire’s sacrifice. He could see no other explanation. 

  His bride, from what Aemon could see was the picture of classic Northern beauty, with her long face and deep grey eyes rimmed by silver. He could tell right away that the Old Gods had marked her. Her aura shone brightly and the magic in her blood radiated off of her in waves. Not only that, but the moment he had touched her, he felt the Nameless Gods of the North wrap themselves around her lovingly. There was something more to her, something that could not be seen with the naked eye but Aemon could sense it. This was his special gift after all— the ability to see what had been concealed, the ability to tell a truth from a lie. And while it was very clear to him what he was sensing, it was not his place to call her out. 

  There was much that he had want of sharing with Rhaegar, but he knew that they had time, so after a brief conversation during their walk back to the Maesters Tower, he sent his nephew back to his lovely wife, knowing the following days to come would see them into each other's company once again.

  Like clockwork, the following day saw Rhaegar, Lord Eddard and the Lord Rickard entering his chamber so that they could be briefed on everything that he had discovered during his time as acting maester and juror. The entire situation had been difficult for him to sort through, but after doing nothing other than investigating the matter, he was likely the best person to present. 

  That Walys had been busy, there was no doubt and after explaining how deeply the matter went, he was not at all surprised with Rhaegar’s reaction to the news of Pycelle’s involvement and the full scope of the issue. It was clear to him, that Pycelle is serving two factions. The first was obviously the Citadel, while the second was none other than Tywin Lannister. 

  After it was determined that Rhaegar meant to discuss things with his wife, Lord Rickard and Lord Eddard excused themselves, leaving himself, Ser Oswell, and his nephew alone in the chamber. Standing, he moved from his seat and he crossed the room, heading straight for the chest that he had brought with him all the way from Castle Black. 

  The chest itself was nothing special, save that it had been crafted from Ironwood, and was able to block the magical signal that was attached to the items within.

  “Uncle, is there something I can assist you with?” His royal nephew called, but Aemon waved him off.  Instead, he motioned for Ser Oswell to assist him with his burden. 

  When they had both reached the table, Ser Oswell placed three items on the surface and then retreated, leaving the two of them to talk amongst themselves.

  “I’m sure you’re curious about what all of this is…” Aemon began.

  Rhaegar raised a brow, interest clear on his face. “How could I not be?” He replied.

  Before he revealed the big stuff, he passed him a piece of parchment that he had been holding on to for more than five and twenty years at the request of his kinsmen Brynden Rivers. 

  

 

> _My Prince,_
> 
> _‘Tis a great day if these words have finally managed to be delivered unto your hand. For I saw you hatch within the fire long before you were even born. Your destiny is limitless, young dragon, and while destiny waits for nothing, you get to decide the path you take to reach fulfillment. Know that you are not alone, not now nor ever._
> 
> _I have long been working to get you where you are right now, and I have taken many precautions to aid you and your descendants in the wars to come._
> 
> _Over the past century and a half, our family slowly introduced the blood of the First Men into our line. And each time we held our breath to see if the magic in the blood of the First Men could reawaken what had been lost after the Dance, all to no avail. Until now. . . You see,  I learned long ago that it was better to ask forgiveness than permission._
> 
>    _So, please forgive what I am about to reveal. The blood your children will carry will be the salvation of your line, and the salvation of humanity. Which is why each hardship you have had to endure to find each other will pale in comparison to the hardships you will face to keep one another. Greatness requires sacrifice, and the world needs a hero. While you may find loving your ice maiden as easy as breathing, you both will have many trials to overcome before either will find true peace._
> 
> _To help you both, I have preserved and secretted away some priceless treasures that you will find will come in handy when the nights are at their darkest and the sun hides its face._
> 
> _Long ago, I was given the honor of wielding one of two ancestral blades that belonged to the line of Conquerors; Dark Sister. For many, her whereabouts have remained a mystery. Did I lose the sword in battle? Did I sell it to spite my king when he sentenced me to serve out my days on the Wall? Did I take it with me and lose it in the Lands of Always Winter? The truth is, I have had it with me, for I knew that leaving it behind would have certainly meant losing it. Fortunately, this will all change now that you have taken the first step in securing the survival of humanity._
> 
> _The second object is similar, with an almost identical story to accompany it, and by now I’m sure you’ve guessed what I am referring to. In the year 219 After Conquest the armies of the crown clashed against the armies of Bittersteel in battle. It was the last time I faced him in single combat, but there we were, two brothers, standing on opposite sides of a battlefield, prepared to die to keep the rightful king on the Iron Throne of our ancestors. Bittersteel was glorious, slicing down men with such deadly precision that I almost regretted challenging him. Blackfyre had never been meant for him, but he had refused to return it to Daemon’s heir and thus, she was there as well cutting through meat and bone and plate and mail, until I took aim at him with my Weirwood bow and loosed an arrow which caught him in the joint of his shoulder, forcing him to his knees._
> 
> _The battle was over shortly after that, and Aegor Rivers, who was my brother by blood was chained and escorted back to King's Landing to await trial. We had taken many casualties, but amidst the chaos, no one noticed when I plucked Blackfyre from the ground and hid it away. They rest is history, Bittersteel was sent to the Wall, a destination that he would never reach, but he made that voyage alone, without the sword that he had fought so valiantly with. For it was no longer his, and it’s destiny was far too great to leave in the hands of a group of exiles who later went on to be called the Golden Company._
> 
> _This, I have left at the Wall with Aemon. For one day a scion of our House was destined to come and bring fire and blood to the true enemy. A scion of both Ice and Fire._
> 
> _It might seem cruel to you, that both of these swords have been hidden away from our family for so long, but my decision to do so was not one made lightly. The long night is coming, and the dead will come with it. The only weapons capable of defeating the Wight Walkers are made from dragonsteel— more commonly known as Valyrian steel, the other is dragon glass, which as you know, can be found on Dragonstone in abundance._
> 
> _There are other places in the kingdoms that possess large quantities of Obsidian, Skagos and Winterfell among them. Though one would have to know the caves in order to locate the glass beneath Winterfell. But these weapons alone will not be enough, because the Great Other can add the bodies of those who fall to his own ranks._
> 
> _This is our purpose, young dragon. This is the reason why our forebearer chose to conquer these lands. This is the one war that matters above all else, I ask you to remember this in the years to come, when the whims of mankind attempt to draw your attention toward other conflicts. It is not the Iron Throne that will secure the safety and survival of our species, it will be your House Words and the magic that you have reawakened through the union of Ice and Fire._
> 
> _Though I am no longer able to aide you physically, I have done all that I can to prepare you for what is to come. There are two more objects that I have to give, though one is for your wife, the other I shall let you decide what to do with._
> 
> _In the case is my bow, it was originally carved from a branch of the Raventree. Though the tree itself no longer grows or produces leaves, the Old Gods still maintain their connection. The Children of the Forest have carved ancient runes into the bow, and the string is made from unicorn hair. It is my sincerest wish that you would gift this bow to my distant niece, I know that she will know what to do with it. And if not, there is a message within for her to read when she is ready._
> 
> _Finally, I have preserved an egg that was at one point the property of House Butterwell. Gifted to him by my sire for the chance to bed three of his daughters while he was at White Walls on progress. Though it's whereabouts have been a mystery, I made sure that this egg never made its way across the narrow sea to be given to one of the Blackfyre descendants._
> 
> _My Prince, your destiny has been written more times than you could ever know, but if you are reading this then I have done my duty by our House and the Realm. Fear not what you don't know, for answers come from the least likely of places. You are proof of that, whether you know it or not._
> 
> _Dragons thrive in fire… and are House words are more than simple words. They are the key to everything that was lost. Fire and Blood to wake the dragon, Fire and Blood to forge,  Fire and Blood to build._
> 
> _You must use the gate, to find what has been lost, to take back what is yours and your children’s by right. And whatever you do, you musn't part from your bride. She is your balance, as you are hers. One would be lost without the other, as the two of you are tied together in Life and in Death._
> 
> _The gates will take you North as well as South, and in time I do hope to see you and your lightbringers. You will know when the time is right. Until then, know that you are on the right path and that you will always have someone here to guide you. Just listen to the trees when you are lost and we will help you find your way._
> 
> _I wish you good fortune in the wars to come- Lord Bloodraven._

  Aemon had read the letter half a hundred times over the past five and twenty years since he had received it along with Blackfyre. Waiting for the day that his great great nephew would show up to the Wall to fulfill his destiny. A duty that he found himself glad would never come to pass now that the Gods had found a way to mark Lyanna and Rhaegar as one. So as his royal nephew read over the written words that were just slightly older than himself, he began to uncover and lay out the items as they were mentioned in the letter.

  Dark Sister looked exactly as he had remembered, long and slender, and made for a smaller hand. Blackfyre was equally as beautiful, though he was far more familiar with this blade than Dark Sister as he had been the one keeping her for all these many years. Even before he had departed King's Landing to accompany his kin, the Lord Bloodraven, on his way North. Brynden had given it to him, knowing that their futures would be joined in some fashion and he had asked him to trust that the sword would one day make it back to its rightful place, and back to the hand of a Targaryen who would be worthy of wielding her. The bow was among the items that had been delivered to the Wall before his departure, along with Dark Sister and the egg that he was now being placed atop the velvet bag that it had been stored in for however long Bloodraven had it. 

  When Rhaegar looked up, his eyes were wide. He could see the many questions that were flitting through his mind as he took in everything that he had just read and was now seeing.

  “I don't, understand. How—?” His nephew asked, gaping at the objects that sat in front of him.

  He chuckled, “I do believe that was the purpose of keeping that letter with me for the past quarter century.” He teased.

  Rhaegar glanced back and forth between all of the objects that were now laid out in front of him. And a part of Aemon knew the feelings that were coursing through him. He had felt them himself when he had been presented the objects that had been left for him.

  “By now I am sure that your guide has explained that there have been multiple timelines at play in discovering how to fulfill the prophecy?” Aemon asked.

  “Aye, Lord Howland has mentioned them. He said that the marks were a surprise and that he had not known that they would be in play.” Rhaegar replied, still lost in thought as he surveyed Blackfyre’s smoky black blade.

  Aemon nodded, happy that he did not have to explain this. “Then you are aware that in the alternate timeline, both yourself and Lyanna did not live to raise your heir and instead he grew up believing he was his uncle’s bastard and eventually joined the Night's watch, he was murdered by his men eventually and never knew the truth of who he was nor who his parents truly were.” He did not mean for his words to sound harsh, but the truth was circumstantial depending on which version they went with. 

  His nephew dropped his eyes away in shame, no doubt perceiving this timeline as something that actually happened, so he attempted to set his mind at ease with his next words. “Worry not, my boy. This was but one version of what could have been your destiny, but it does not have to happen in this timeline. You see, when Lord Brynden and myself set sail all those many years ago, we both did so knowing that eventually the promised prince would come to light the way for humanity through the darkness. We know now that that boy was always going to be your son, and so in this other timeline Blackfyre was also given to him. Only she had been disguised as the ancestral weapon of the next man to become Lord Commander; Jeor Mormont. Who went on to name your son as his Steward at the insistence of myself and his uncles Benjen and Eddard. Aegon, who was called Jon by his mothers family saved Lord Commander Mormont from a wight that had been turned beyond the Wall and was then brought back into the Castle through the gate. It was then that the words of Bloodraven came to mind and I knew that Blackfyre belonged to him. So we had the hilt remade in the image of his direwolf and bestowed a new name upon her… You see, that timeline was rejected by Lord Bloodraven and that is why we are here right now. We cannot change the past, but the future is full of infinite possibilities. What you and Lyanna have now is something you did not have in the other timeline; Hope.”

  His nephew looked up and smiled shyly. “Thank you—. Uncle Aemon, for bringing these here to us, and for watching over them for all of this time. And thank you for helping me understand everything that is at stake. I have to go and speak with Lord Rickard but would it be alright if I have someone deliver these items to my chambers?”

   _Such a fine young man…_ Aemon thought to himself before he nodded to his nephew. “That should be fine, I know you must be busy. I’ll not keep you any longer than necessary. Though I do hope that you will visit me again soon.”

  “Sooner than you think. I mean to spend as much time with you as possible. We have much to discuss while I’m in Winterfell.” Rhaegar promised, embracing him warmly. 

  For just a moment Aemon considered how much he would have loved having Rhaegar for his own son. Had that future been in the cards for him, he thought he would have been quite proud to be the father of a man like him.

* * *

  **The Silver Prince**

* * *

  After leaving the Maesters Tower, he went in search of his good-father, who he knew to be in his own solar in the Great Keep, so together, he and Oswell made their way in that direction. It didn’t take long to get his bearings, and before long he was being permitted entrance into Lord Rickards Solar. 

  He found his good-father standing beside his desk when he entered, obviously waiting to follow protocol but he found that he had no patience for any of it. 

  “Please, my Lord, there is no need for such formalities when it is just us. Especially now that our family is joined through marriage. I should think our common interest alone would be enough to convince you that I am not my father and I do not require such assurances.” 

  Rickard nodded his head, “Very well, how should you like for me to address you?” 

  He hadn’t expected this question and in truth he hadn’t considered it. “You may call me by my given name if it pleases you, or you can address me as you would your sons. Afterall, this was the same request my mother made of Lyanna.” 

  “Aye, I think that should be fine.” His good father looked as if he were almost smiling. “What brings you to my solar, son?”

  He would have returned his good-father's humor, but he had indeed come with a purpose. Straightening his shoulders, he looked Lord Rickard square in the eyes. “I was hoping that I might take a moment of your time to discuss some matters concerning the North and Lyanna among other things.

  At this, his good father narrowed his eyes, the wolf making a rare appearance in the Lords demeanor. But he did not let it go any further than that, instead he gestured toward a chair across from his own. 

 _Good…_  He thought to himself wryly. There was a small measure of comfort knowing that he wasn’t the only one who felt an uncontrollable need to guard her away from everyone else.

  Once he had taken his seat, he thought about what he should say and where to begin, there was so much to speak about, his marriage, his annulment, his father, the prophecy, the state of affairs between the North and the Crown, but mostly there was Lyanna… always Lyanna. At least insofar as he was concerned. 

  “There are many matters of import, though I realize that we will not be able to discuss them all here and now, there are of course matters that must be put to rest. I expect you have questions, I wanted you to have the opportunity to give them voice.” He decided to let Lord Rickard go first.

  As expected he had many questions as to the specifics of his relationship with Elia, their daughter, and the babe that she carries currently. He, of course had answered all, in as clear and concise a way as possible. There of course was also the assurances that Elia had written in her own hand in regards to their annulment and the paternity of her current child which they both agreed to leave in the care of Lord Rickard in case something should happen and his son with Lyanna had his birthright contested. Not that he expected this to be the case, but he had learned long ago to prepare his children for any possible eventuality. 

  The next topic that came up was of course the incident at Harrenhal with Lyanna and her dressing up as the mystery knight. He explained why Lyanna had chosen to defy not only his father, but hers as well and of how, long ago he had read in a scroll that had been written in the time of Visenya Targaryen. A scroll that told of the darkness coming to cover the land and the prince that was promised who was to be born of salt and smoke, or ice and fire in its new interpretation. He explained to him how in this scroll he had learned four things–

  * He must be a warrior strong enough to claim her and her deem him worthy..
  * He must steal her when the thief passes through the moonmaid.
  * He must crown her in the way of her people… with winter roses. 
  * She must come from far away to strengthen his line so that they can survive through winter. 



  And how none of that mattered when his father chose Elia Martell of Dorne to be his bride in an attempt to thwart Tywin Lannister from conspiring to place a crown upon his daughters head. All because Lyanna had never been presented as a possible and quite viable match. One whom he would have gladly waited for if that is what was asked of him. In the end it hadn’t mattered in the least, as the Gods had the final say on the day that they saw fit to mark the two of them and seal their fate. 

  Now that he had finally arrived at the point in their conversation that he had been angling toward, he jumped right in.

  “I’m sure you’re wondering where Lyanna was while we met earlier. And if I’m being honest, this is the true purpose for my visit.” He began. 

  “You see, as I understand it, you decided to educate Lyanna in all the ways a lady of her birth and station are typically taught. Yet she preferred her brothers lessons with the sword and bow and lance, and while I cannot fault you in your decisions, it has led Lyanna to hiding her passions away. This is something that I can not see persist, I hope you understand.” 

  The Old Wolf sat forward in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. “What is it you’re trying to tell me?” 

  His tone was casual, non threatening even, so he decided to out with it. “Lyanna was always meant to command men and women on the battlefield, she is a natural born leader, who possesses a warrior spirit not seen since Queen Visenya, or Princess Rhaenys who should have ruled in her own right. I will not see her suppressed any longer, not here, and not on Dragonstone. And once I sit the Iron Throne, she will rule beside me, as my equal, not my broodmare. I won’t have her hiding here in the Godswood with Ser Arthur just so that she can train. I would see her practice in the yard beside the rest of the boys and men. If you attend an execution I would see that she is not left behind just because of her sex. Lord Stark, Winter is Coming, those are your words, and though you may not have seen what I’ve seen, nor  what Lyanna’s seen, I know you’ve seen those comets that burn in the sky still, near on two moons since they appeared.” 

  “Aye, I’ve seen them and while its true that I haven’t seen what you have seen, the North remembers. We remember that there was a pact, we remember the taste of winter, we remember the burn of the cold, of days that pass without sight of the sun. And we also remember what it’s like to go without the aid of the other six Kingdoms during those same long winters. In the times before your ancestors came to claim these lands, our women were as battle hardened as our men but things have changed. As much as I would have loved to indulge Lyanna, I had to consider what that would mean for her future prospects, knowing that my pup would never be the quiet and obedient wife every lord believes that they are entitled to. The truth is, I chose to marry Lyanna into the south for the survival of my people, to ensure that they are fed and sheltered the next time winter comes in force.” 

  Rhaegar listened in earnest as his good-father explained his reasons for prohibiting Lyanna from indulging in her “Wolf’s Blood” as he called it. And Rhaegar could tell just by the tone of his voice that he was more amused by the topic than he was anything else, so he took this as a good sign and continued on. In the end, he was satisfied with his good-father's agreement that Lyanna be permitted to train whenever and wherever she felt comfortable. He decided to press the issue about the other women in the North at a later date. After all, he knew better than anyone how slow progress could truly be to attain. 

  “Now that we’ve gotten all this out of the way, is there any other matters that you would like to discuss?” Rickard asked and he knew he was politely being dismissed. 

  Rising, he shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait another day or so. I would actually like to go and check in with my wife.” He smiled, despite his effort to remain stoic whenever Lyanna was mentioned, or thought of. 

  “I know better than to keep you from her, she can be quite fearsome, my she-pup.” He replied with fondness in his tone.

  “That she can,” he agreed. “Thank you for making time for me.”  He said before making his way out the door and back toward the First Keep where the scrolls and the items Aemon had presented him with awaited his arrival.

  On his way through the yard, he was joined by the black direwolf that had chosen Lyanna as her person. Though they had never expressed direct interest in him, he got the sense that they understood that their mistress could be found easy enough if they followed him from time to time, and over the last day he had found them following him quite a few times. 

  Arthur seemed to handle the additions to their security with open arms. He claimed that he had long ago came to terms with the idea that dragons would return and if he had no say in that type of pet, who was he to say no to a horse sized wolf that could sever a mans head in one bite. He even went as far as suggesting one for each member of the Kingsguard, noting how much easier it would be to guard the royal family with a Direwolf as a partner. 

  Oswell on the other hand insisted on keeping a healthy distance, not trusting anything with four legs and a mouth large enough to dismember, to come any closer than arm's reach from him.

  He thought the former as slightly genius, unfortunately Direwolves were no pets, and they did not serve him. They served his wife if they served anyone, and even she did not seek to chain or command them. She treated them as her equals, because as she put it, they were. As for Oswell, he supposed that he had best get over his fear, because he did not see a future where the wolves would not be a part of their lives. They had come from far north, beyond the Wall, seeking his wife and her family, he did not believe that they intended to migrate back north any time soon. 

  He found his wife in their solar, going over the journals that she had brought with her from Dragonstone. Comparing notes between the dreams from centuries ago to the dreams that both she and himself have had over the past twenty years. She looked up when he entered and awarded him with a smile. 

  “I had hoped to find you here. Has the package from my uncle been delivered yet?” He asked. Knowing that Lyanna would want to be brought up to speed about Walys before anything else. She nodded her head, and pointed toward the desk that he had taken for his own, where everything had been placed with care. 

  “What is all of that anyway?” Lyanna asked.

  “Well, there are quite a few items here, but that can wait. I’ve brought the raven scrolls that your Lord Father managed to find during his search of maester Walys chambers. I thought you might want to look them over with me.” 

  She turned to give him her full attention then. “Thank you for considering my feelings on the matter, I hadn’t thought to be included if I’m being truthful.” His wife replied and again it struck him that she had not been invited to attend the meeting. He had simply  assumed that she had not wanted to come, but that clearly wasn't the case now that he was here and he could see the hurt that reflected in her eyes, hurt that she had been trying to conceal from him.

   She would not thank him if he brought attention to her state of distress, but he owed her some sort of apology, one that would convey his regret without actually letting her know that he was saying sorry… and then it occurred to him how he should proceed.

  Looking at her, he spoke the only truth that mattered. “Tis’ nothing, truly. Though perhaps you should prepare yourself now for more of this once we take the throne. I fully intend for you to rule beside me as my equal and not my prize broodmare.” He reminded her. 

  She was more than his prize, he had crowned her as a Queen before he had even wed her before the eyes of her Gods. And, while the practice was unheard of, he fully intended to find a way to make Lyanna’s status as Queen of Winter more than words in the wind. Mayhap one of their future daughters or sons can earn that title from her. Mayhap when everything settles he can convince his good-father to allow him to build a Winterhall or White Keep someplace, where Winterfell could remain the Seat of House Stark and his children and Lyanna’s title would not take away or muddy the line of succession. There was plenty of time for these types of musings, so he banished those thoughts right away, and finished pulling the scrolls from the box that his uncle had packed them in for safe keeping. 

  She perked up at his words, even though she cared nothing for the title or the power. No, the only thing his wife cared about was inclusivity and the ability to decide for herself. He felt the corner of his mouth pull up slightly in her change of demeanor and then he crossed the space and pulled up a chair beside hers.

  “Would it please Her Grace if I took a seat here so that I may share with you the many matters I have been discussing with the Warden of the North and maester Aemon?” he teased.

  Playing along, Lyanna took on a haughty air and nodded indifferently. “I suppose such things cannot be helped. Tell me, what is the general consensus now that you have a better idea of what is going on?” 

  He wanted to kiss her clever mouth, the way she was able to switch back and forth between playfulness and seriousness had a tendency to drive him mad with lust. He had known almost immediately that there would never be a dull moment between the two of them, but it was times like these when he was certain that she had been created specifically for him. She brought out a side of him that he had never known existed in him before her, for all intents and purposes he felt like someone completely unfamiliar to himself.

  Placing the documents on her writing table, he began to separate them into piles, in the same manner that his uncle had arranged them earlier. Once he was done, he began his rendition of what had been discussed in the Maester’s tower, not leaving out a thing, even going so far as relaying the conclusions that everyone else had made. Lyanna listened in silence to everything, only stopping him when she needed further clarification. He explained his dilemma with sending this information to the capital and what his father may do if she is not there to help temper him. He had saved all of this for her, knowing that he could not make a decision without first seeking her out. 

  They spent a good portion of that night pouring over the parchments and in the end Lyanna had agreed with him that there was no way around telling his father. She also agreed that they would need to interrogate him to see if they could convince him to fill in more of the blank spots where some of his missives weren't so clear in their intent. By the end of their discussion a number of things were made clear. The Citadel, the Hightowers and the Faith have been working toward their own goals. Those goals happened to coincide with the goals of some other ambitious factions. The North was considered a threat because there was no proper foothold for the Faith of the Seven, save White Harbor and it was clear that this was one of the main reasons for thwarting a northern match with the blood of the dragon. They believed their influence over the past fifty years had been waning and any influence from the Old Gods could undermine their progress, especially if the House of the Dragon decided they preferred the Gods of the North over those brought from Andalos to Westeros. And that there was some sort of secret order that was determined to shut down any belief in the higher mysteries. 

  The bigger questions were; how deeply does this conspiracy between the Faith, House Hightower and the Citadel go? Is Ser Gerold aware, or is he ignorant of the ambitions of his kin and is he safe to keep around the royal family as a member of their Kingsguard? How did Walys get tangled up in the plot with Tywin, and does Tywin know about the ulterior motives of his maester and the Citadel? And of course, now that they knew the extent of the conspiracy, how should they proceed with the Citadel now that it was determined that Walys would not be returning to his post. They could send him to the Wall, but to what extent? Aemon would have to take him as his acolyte and risk another betrayal. Her father could execute him, which was probably the best choice, but then they would have to send word to the Citadel and a new maester would be sent to Winterfell to take up Walys duties. The only solution that he could come up with would be to ask his uncle to consider staying while the Citadel looks for a replacement. Though how he would go about convincing his uncle to give up the Wall, he knew not and frankly he wasn’t sure that he could. 

  The following day, after training with Arthur and Oswell, he went in search of his good-father. He wanted to make arrangements to speak to Walys and get his opinion on what their next move should be. After that, he decided to go and visit the Godswood. Lyanna was busy in the Great Hall with Ashara, tending to some of the Lords Duties while Rickard focused on other tasks that he had felt were neglected while he was the only Stark in Winterfell. 

  He stopped by their chambers to pick up his harp and then he went in search of the Heart Tree. It felt like stepping into a bubble, being here in this ancient sanctuary. It was like these places existed in between realms, the trees with their brooding faces, their crimson leaves like the color of blood and the white bark that was reminiscent of bone. It was as if this place lived and breathed and gave life to the rest of the castle. 

  After their night spent on the Isle of Faces, he felt a strange kinship to these trees and each time he had stopped on their way North to give another seedling back to the land, he just knew that he was leaving a part of him with it. Only rather than him feeling like something was missing, he felt more whole than he had ever felt in his life, aside from when Lyanna had accepted him as her mate. 

  Rhaegar had never composed anywhere aside from Summerhall but something about this place inspired him. He settled himself at the base of the Weirwood, facing the reflection pool and leaning his back against the trunk. He thought about the feeling of the wind, the sounds of the direwolves calling back and forth to each other, of the scent of Winter Roses and the feel of his wife’s lips pressed against his own, and before he knew it, his hands were gently plucking at the strings of his harp. 

  The song was nothing he had ever played before, though there was a part of him that knew it all the same. Like something he had dreamed once before long ago. Even if he hadn’t written down the notes, his fingers knew the melody by heart. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he found an old woman watching him knowingly. 

  “I’m sorry, have I disturbed your prayers?” He asked, rising from his place on the ground. 

  “My prayers?” The old woman scoffed. “He would like that, wouldn’t you think?” She cackled at her response. 

  He had no idea what he was supposed to say to that. “I’m sorry? Who would like that?” He questioned. 

  “Never you mind, come now child, the Princess was looking for you, and I prefer not to let them look at me. The chance for that came and went long ago.” She answered cryptically once more. 

  Reluctantly, he followed the old woman who his wife had told him was called Old Nan out of the Godswood and back to the First Keep. He found Lyanna waiting in the main chamber, beside her was his Good-brother Ned, Arthur, Oswell, Ashara, Benjen and his great uncle Aemon. 

  “What’s going on?” He asked suspiciously. 

  Lyanna looked toward him, excitement showing on her face. “I’ve narrowed it down, and we’re going to search the crypts. Go and put away your harp and we shall go.”

  He glanced around taking in the many bodies that were filling their chambers. “As in, all of us?” He clarified, earning a scowl from both Arthur and Oswell,  who were clearly determined to not be left out. Plus he was sure that Elia would flay Arthur if he did not accompany them. 

  “All of us...”she confirmed. “and you should hurry. We have been waiting on you forever!” Lyanna teased, pushing him toward their chamber so he would take a hint. 

  Almost an hour later, he found himself standing in the lowest level of her family crypt, watching her as she knelt next to a natural pool that had been lined with Weirwood roots staring at six dragon eggs. 

  Long ago, before the tragedy that ruined Summerhall, dragon eggs had been placed into the cradle of every newborn Targaryen babe. But after the tragedy, any remaining eggs had been locked away on Dragonstone. No one save the King knew where they were, and a part of him wondered if his Grandfather had even shared this information with his father. For surely if his father had known, nothing could have stopped him from trying to continue the work of Aegon the Fifth. 

  They made plans to come back in the coming days, Lyanna wanted to draw the chamber and she wanted to look into the strangeness of the empty tombs and the absence of the bodies that had once been lain to rest down below. But he was more interested in finding out how a dragon had managed to enter the lowest level of the crypts, and if such a way was still open to others. 

  The eggs were brought up from the crypts, and were currently placed in a trunk near the hearth in their sleeping chamber. Lyanna had insisted that they had been kept near a warm pool specifically for the heat in an otherwise cold crypt, therefore she made sure that they were kept close to the heat here too. 

  He still couldn’t get over the fact that they had been there at all, not to mention the size of them which his great uncle had confirmed were quite large in comparison to the many eggs that he had seen in his youth. But no matter how unique to him they truly were, he could not stop thinking of Silverwing, and the dream he had of her moving through tunnels in an attempt to be found. 

  These eggs were not meant for him, they had been left here with a purpose and a part of him wondered if there was validity in the claim that Jacaerys Velaryon had indeed married the sister of Cregan Stark, and whether these eggs had been left here for the descendants of their union and whether or not Lyanna had any of that bloodline lingering inside of her. 

  So many questions to add to the already long list of questions he had been compiling since the day his mark first presented itself. 

* * *

**The Wild-Wolf**

* * *

  He arrived at Riverrun almost a fortnight after the tourney ended and he had been forced to part ways with half of his pack. He had come to court the woman that his father had chosen for him to marry and it was intended that they finalize arrangements while he was there. 

  The Lady Catelyn Tully was beautiful, he would have to be blind not to notice but her father had clearly made sure that she spent a great deal of time being educated in the ways of the Seven. Why his father thought such a bride would be suitable to life in the North, stripped from these gods she so dearly loved, he would never understand.

  She would have none of these comforts once she was in Winterfell, there was a Godswood for reflection but no Sept… and he would not suffer a septa raising his children. Such harsh truths would be hard for a Lady such as her. 

  Catelyn was a sweet thing though and from what he could tell of her in the short time that he had been a guest under the roof of his future good-father Lord Hoster, she was quite enamoured with him. Not that he was particularly surprised by that, he had yet to come across a woman who he couldn’t charm. Catelyn was no different, he could tell by the way her eyes always searched for his, or how she would blush every time he would pay her a compliment. 

  He had taken to arranging daily walks through Riverrun’s Godswood with her, sometimes they would sit beneath the canopy of their ancient Weirwood and she would tell him stories about her youth and how she would play there with her sister and her father’s young ward Petyr, in turn he would pretend to listen, nodding or humming where he thought it appropriate. 

 Each time he would make progress he thought and after a fortnight of those moments alone, she finally allowed him to kiss her. The following day, he had been summoned to her Lord father’s solar to set the date of their wedding. 

  Brandon had come here for this, so it shouldn’t have stunned him the way that it had, but as they sat there, going over dates and arrangements he couldn’t help but feel that this was all happening so quickly. Eventually they decided on a date, opting to hold the ceremony in Riverrun the following year in the sixth month. 

  His intended was beyond happy and he supposed that, at the very least was a small comfort. If he knew himself well enough, and he rather thought that he did… Catelyn would find little joy being his bride. He was not meant for married life nor was he supposed to be the future Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. That was Ned, his ever dutiful brother, no— he was better suited for  travel, and perhaps selling his sword. But how could he tell his father these things? How could he ever expect the honorable Rickard Stark to accept that he would rather abdicate his right as heir than marry a perfectly suitable woman who had no fault other than her innocence and naïve belief in the Seven and the perfect knight in shining armor? And Gods, if she prattled on about her duty while he claimed her maidenhead on the night of their wedding he might just choose the Wall. 

  Upon exiting Lord Hoster’s chambers, he was met by his intended. By the look she was giving him, it was obvious that he had her to thank for the sudden decision to set the date. “My Lady.” He greeted, remembering his courtesies.

  Catelyn blushed—, _like she had no idea what was happening behind the closed doors of her father’s solar_ , he couldn’t help but think to himself. 

  “Would you care if I walk with you, My Lord?” She asked shyly. 

  He had no reason to deny her request, so instead he offered her his arm and she took it. They walked for a time, through the castle at first and then eventually they made their way out into the courtyard, where the Lady Lysa and the young Petyr who was being warded at Riverrun were sitting by one of the fountains. 

  “Lysa! There you are…” Catelyn called, gaining the attention of her sister and companion, who he had noticed looked at him with poorly concealed distaste. 

  Without needing to be instructed, he allowed his feet to lead them toward the young Tully girl, Catelyn still attached to his side. “Lady Lysa, what a pleasure to see you out here.” He greeted. The truth was, he could care less about the little fish or her mousy friend. He had made little effort to ingratiate himself with the other Tully’s. Lysa was a small thing with a far away look to her that implied that she wasn't always in the present with the rest of the people around her. He also noticed her infatuation with the boy Petyr and by extension, Petyr’s infatuation with Catelyn. He wondered briefly how well the boy actually knew the two Tully girls. 

  “It’s official Lysa, Father and Brandon have agreed upon a date, we’re to be wed next year during the sixth moon!” His intended gushed to her little sister. 

  Suddenly the little boy, Petyr stood up. “You’re going through with it? You’re really going to marry him?” He exclaimed.

  Catelyn looked taken aback by the outburst but Brandon couldn’t help but find it all very amusing. He hadn’t thought to find anything quite so entertaining here in Riverrun but this would clearly suffice. Besides, his inner wolf raised its hackles at the clear challenge for his future mate.

  Catelyn stepped forward, meeting the glare of her foster brother. “Of course I’m going to marry him, we’ve been promised to one another for years Petyr. I have been groomed to be the future Lady of Winterfell for as many years as I can remember.” He couldn’t help but to admire her steely determination in the face of such outrage. 

  “But—,” Petyr stammered, clearly deciding what his next approach should be. After all, how could the son of an up jumped hedge knight hope to wed a woman who was the first born daughter of a Lord Paramount, over the heir to another. 

He turned his attention back toward Brandon and he felt the corner of his lip curl up in anticipation of the words that he expected to follow. The boy fancied himself in love, and that love was being threatened. 

  “I challenge you, Brandon Stark to a duel for the right to the Lady Catelyn's hand.” Brandon smirked at Petyr’s ridiculous challenge but before he could respond to it, the Lady Lysa jumped up and started wailing unintelligibly.  Quickly, Catelyn moved to silence her sister. 

  “Lysa! Stop with your yelling, you are going to call Father out here, and what will he say if he sees you behaving thus!” His intended hissed, chastising her younger sister.

  “Cat— you can't let them do this! Brandon will hurt Petyr, you know it!” The girl exclaimed, clearly unable to calm herself.  

  The truth was, the girl was right. There was no hope for Lord Hoster’s ward in a duel against him. There would be no challenge for him at any rate and on any other day, he may have laughed and ignored the challenge but it just so happened that he had been itching for a fight, for any kind of thrill that did not include innocent kisses or infatuated maidens.

  “I accept.” He announced before Catelyn could argue her foster brother’s case.

  Lysa looked at him crossly and he could see the myriad of emotions that were coursing through her as she considered what she wished to say to him. He could imagine all of the colorful and unladylike things she was thinking and a small part of him truly hoped that she would be bold enough to call him out, knowing how scandalized Catelyn would be by the situation.

  Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold? Gods, Lyanna would have let him have it if she were standing in their shoes and he loved her all the more for it. Growing up, she was such a pain in the arse and he used to threaten to tell father about her secret training sessions with Ben in order to buy her silence whenever he snuck out to Winter Town and she would catch him. But once he grew older and he had traveled some, he found that her straightforward approach was much more preferable in comparison to the demure Southern Lady that he was being shackled to in less than a years time. He was bored out of his mind, truth be told and if he had to teach some little runt his place in order to get some entertainment out of his stay here, so be it.

  “In two days time, I will meet you here at midday, that should allow you enough time to properly prepare.” He said, driving the last nail into his coffin. He turned back to Catelyn and inclined his head. “My Lady, would you like to continue our walk, or would you like some time to tend to your sister and her friend?” He asked, he was mocking them all and he was sure that they understood this, yet he could not simply walk away from her without her leave to do so… Not after a duel for her hand had been proposed, her honor was on the line and her next decision would be very important if she truly wished to be the Lady of Winterfell. He raised a questioning eyebrow as she tore herself in two over her duty and her personal feelings. 

  In the end, she chose to come with him when he headed back toward the castle, though there was a small part of him that wondered which decision she had made… _Was he her duty or her personal choice?_

He led her back toward her father's solar, she did not ask him why, which he supposed was a small victory. It meant that she understood the severity of the situation and that he had been well within his rights as her intended to accept the challenge.

  “Brandon?” Catelyn called quietly from beside him. He paused, curious to see if she would challenge his decision.

  Looking up through the curtain of her lashes she blushed slightly as she caught him watching her, waiting for her to speak. “I know that you are within your rights to accept his challenge and I would never ask you to back down—,”

  He wanted to roll his eyes at all the theatrics, she had no reason to assume that he would strike her, so she had no reason to be timid around him. “Catelyn, if you would have something of me then ask, there are many other things I could be doing right now and watching you squirm out here in this hallway is not one of them…” he remarked teasingly. He would love nothing more than to watch her squirm, only it would involve less clothing and preferably closed doors and his body on top of hers. But it was not as if he could admit such things out loud in her father's home, so he would settle for innuendos.

  Catelyn swallowed, her cheeks going so scarlet that she almost matched the color of her hair and it was actually quite lovely on her, he mused.

  “Forgive me, I was only hoping that I could ask you to take it easy on him… You see, he’s just a foolish boy. He doesn't really understand what he’s doing and he will never be able to properly defend himself against you.” She finally managed.

  Of course he knew this as well, yet that had not stopped the boy from raising his challenge, which is why he had no issue with meeting it. “Catelyn, know that I take no pleasure in any of this,” he lied. “but he has challenged me for your hand and unless I meet that challenge as I would’ve had any other man done the same as your foster brother, my response would have been the same, I would not be worthy of your hand. I will promise not to be too hard on him, so long as he yields to me once he is down. However, should he refuse to yield and continue his pursuit of myself or of you, I cannot promise he will not suffer for his delusions of grandeur and for overreaching.”

  He could tell that she was considering her reply when their attention was drawn to a commotion down the corridor. When they both turned to see what the fuss was, Catelyn’s eleven year old brother was barreling toward them with a look of excitement etched into his features.

  “Edmure, what is the meaning of all this?” Catelyn exclaimed, with exasperation in her tone.

At the same time, the door to her father's solar opened and Lord Hoster stepped out, looking to see what all the ruckus was about, no doubt.

  Edmure came to a halt right in front of them however, and did not waste time explaining why he was so excited. “Is it true? Littlefinger challenged you to a duel and you're going to fight him in two days?”

  He thought the kid was annoying half of the time, but he couldn't help but be amused by the title that he had given Lysa and Catelyn’s little friend. Delighted by this, he indulged the young lord. “Aye, you heard correct, but I have yet to talk about this with your Lord Father and it would be rude of me not to do so now.” 

  “I agree Edmure, now run along and I will catch up with you in a little while.” Hoster responded as he closed the distance between themselves and his solar.

  “My Lord, I apologize for the disturbance.” He intoned, remembering his manners. 

  Hoster waved him off, obviously having caught wind of the matter after hearing Edmure shriek about it moments before. “Worry not, It would seem we have matters to discuss yet again,” he mused lightly.

  “It would appear so, I had hoped to see you in your solar and the Lady Catelyn would like to join us this time, as this involves her too.” Brandon responded in his Lords voice. This was a game to him of course, but he would not be as flippant with his future good-father as he had been with his betrothed.

  Hoster inclined his head and led them both toward his solar and let them in before he closed them in and moved toward his desk. Cutting right to the chase, he asked, “So what is this business with Petyr challenging you to a duel?”

  They sat this way, across from Lord Tully for almost an hour, explaining to him what had transpired out in the yard between himself, Catelyn, Lysa and Petyr. In the end he had been correct, he was within his rights to accept Petyr’s challenge, yet Lord Hoster co-signed his daughters earlier concerns so he ruled that the duel would only be fought until one of them yielded, or was forced from his feet due to injury. He could accept those terms, as neither situation would be a concern for him personally. 

  Catelyn sat in silence, never once did she move to argue for her friend and even moreso, she did not protest when Hoster commanded that she stay away from him moving forward and that she was to be escorted by her septa when she wasn't in the company of himself or her uncle Brynden, at least until Petyr was gone. 

  “What do you mean, at least until Petyr is gone?” She asked almost dumbly. 

   _Surely she didn't think that he would be allowed to remain here after his display in the yard, and his declaration that he intended to have Catelyn as his own..?_

  Hoster was not kind when he replayed his own sentiments on the matter and his intended could only nod her head in supplication. Shortly after, he departed from Catelyn and Hoster’s company and made his way toward his own chambers. He would have plenty of time to spend with Catelyn once they were wed, for now his days as a single man were numbered and he wanted to take some time to relish in his solitude before he was forced to play the part of a leashed wolf.

  The following day brought word from the Citadel, Winter was indeed back and that meant that his time in Riverrun was at a close, he would not be here while the snow fell in the North, and he assumed that with this news arriving in Winterfell, his summons would soon follow.

  As planned, Brandon met with Petyr in the godswood two days following his outburst. Catelyn came and so did Lysa, their uncle Brynden, Lord Hoster, the castle’s master at arms, and some of their household guards, all to bare witness. 

  After two days of fending off an overly excited eleven year old, he had finally found Edmure that morning leaving the great hall, on his way to the training yard. “Little Lord Edmure,” he called, the boy halted his steps as soon as Brandon’s voice had been heard by him and he spun around on his heels immediately.

  “Lord Brandon, aren’t you supposed to be preparing for the duel with Littlefinger?” He asked, clearly not expecting that he would have been looking for the lad. 

  “You raise a fair question and in fact, that is why I have come in search for you.” He informed the lad. 

  “For me? But what could you possibly need me for?” The boy questioned. 

  “I’ve been thinking, and I know that we’ve not spent much time in each other’s company, but something tells me that you think Petyr is too familiar with your sisters. Tell me, is that why you call him Littlefinger?”

  Little Edmure scrunched his face up at the mention of Petyr and Brandon struggled to hide his amusement at the young boys reaction. “He’s always following my sisters around. Once, when he first came to stay with us, I heard him telling Lysa that he wanted to be the Lord of Riverrun—, but he can’t! Father told me that I was his heir, and that Littlefinger was the son of a hedge knight who had property in the Vale. That his was a small House and that it was located on the littlest Finger of the Fingers.” He smiled wickedly, obviously reliving the memory. “So, the next day when I caught him playing with Cat and Lysa in the godswood, I reminded him that he was Lord Littlefinger, not Lord Tully. He got so mad at me, that I never let him forget it.”

  Brandon thought about his story some more, the boy was bold and he could respect that. “Well, today looks like the day when he will finally learn his lesson. Can you guess why I’ve come in search of you?” He asked, hoping the boy would have figured it out by now. 

  The boy shook his head, “Is my father looking for me?”

  “Nay, I haven’t come looking for you as a favor to your Lord Father, I’ve come to ask you if you would be interested in squiring for me today?” 

  Edmure snapped to attention the moment he understood what was being asked of him. “Really? You really mean it?!”

  He nodded, “I mean it, but we better hurry if you mean to help me into my armor.” He began walking toward the yard and was not surprised to hear the lad hurrying behind him trying to keep pace with his longer strides.

  He did not wear full plate, it was hardly necessary but he did have Edmure help him into boiled leather that had steel inlaid into the breast plate. It wasn't typical of knights in the South, but in the North this was much more practical than marching around in full metal plate. No, this would allow him full range of motion and with any luck, he would have this sorted without even breaking into a sweat.

  They met in the lower bailey of Riverrun near the Water Gate, upon seeing that Petyr had only a helm, breastplate and mail, he was glad that he had chosen not to wear full armor. Catelyn was there, silently waiting beside her father, her uncle and her sister for him to arrive. He motioned for Edmure to give him a moment and he walked over to greet Lord Hoster and Catelyn.

  As it turned out, Petyr had begged her for her favors but she had refused him outright, instead she approached him and presented him with a pale blue handscarf that had little leaping trout which represented her house embroidered onto it. “I was hoping that you would allow me to bestow my favor upon you.” She remarked timidly. 

  He inclined his head, and reached out so that she could tie it around his wrist for him. When she was finished, she looked up into his eyes and he could see what she was trying to convey.  “He is only a foolish boy, yet I love him like a brother and it would pain me to see him die.” She pleaded one last time.

  He must have been inspired by her plea, because in a rare act of kindness, he looked at her, his pale grey eyes to her blue and he promised to spare the fool of a boy. 

  The fight was over almost as soon as it began. Brandon was much larger than the foolish boy who thought him his equal. With hardly any effort at all he had Petyr on the defense and was pushing him across the bailey in the direction of the Water Stair that would lead back up to the castle. 

  Every step he took he continued to rain steel down upon his foe, never relenting, even as the boy began to stagger and falter due to the dozen or so wounds that he had inflicted upon him.

  There was no challenge in this and a part of him felt like a terrible shit for entertaining this challenge in the first place.

"Yield!" he called, not for the first time in less than a handful of minutes, but Petyr only shook his head and continued to fight on, grimly. 

 Once he had managed to drive Petyr back toward the waters edge he quickly lost his patience. He wasn't sure whether or not the boy had meant to tire him out but he meant to end this now. 

  When the river was lapping at their ankles, Brandon made his move and with a brutal backhand cut, his sword bit through Petyr's rings and leather and into the soft flesh below the ribs, so deep that he couldn't be certain whether or not the wound was mortal.  So, when Petyr fell to his knees in front of Catelyn and Lysa and he murmured “Cat,” Brandon did not make a scene of it. Instead he turned his attention toward Lord Hoster and he nodded, signaling that the duel was done.

  He turned back toward Edmure who was standing completely still, mouth agape at what he’d just witnessed no doubt. As he approached, he passed his sword to the lad and bid him follow. He did not want to stay and witness what came next, if the boy died then he suspected that they would let him know. If not, then he suspected that Littlefinger would carry a token of his esteem with him the rest of his days. At the very least he would be reminded of what it felt like to reach beyond his station and how painful the lesson had been.

  As it turned out, Petyr did not die. However, he was not expected to recover in comfort either. Once the maester had stitched up his wound and given a full report to Hoster, the Lord went to his sick chamber and informed him that he would be departing Riverrun in a fortnight in favor of the Inn at the Crossroads until the mountain road was passable once more, now that winter had returned. 

  After that, he did not see much of Petyr nor Lysa who had decided that he was some monstrous barbarian who got pleasure from praying on people who were unable to defend themselves. Not that he cared, he was packing up his belongings and getting ready to travel home now that he’d accomplished all that he had been sent here to do. 

  A knock at his door called his attention away from packing, so he crossed the room to see who had come calling upon him. Out in the hallway stood Lord Hoster Tully. He looked back over his chambers to see if they were decent, and then opened the door to allow him to enter. 

  “My Lord, I did not expect to see you again tonight, is aught amiss?” Truly he could not fathom what could have brought him here at such a late hour.

  “Nay, all is well. I came here to speak with you in private before you depart on the morrow. I trust that you have all you’ll need for your journey?” Hoster inquired.

  “Aye, I have everything I need and more,” he replied, holding up the blue handscarf Catelyn had given him as her favor. 

  He wasn’t sentimental, but he knew that Lord Hoster had a soft place in his heart for his eldest child, similar to the way that his own father doted on Lyanna. He suspected the gesture would please his good-father to be and his assumption was confirmed with a small smile. 

  “Right— well, I suppose you and Cat have worked out communication while you’re away?”

  He wondered if the indomitable, Lord Rickard Stark was currently behaving similarly with the Crown Prince now that they were home…the thought made him chuckle. 

   He was in an agreeable mood so he decided to indulge the older man. “We have and I suspect that she has already started composing her first of many letters to me.” 

  Lord Hoster smiled fondly at that. “Very good. I am sure she is looking forward to your return.”

  “I suspect that we both are,” he responded, not insincerely. His issue with the Lady had nothing to do with her beauty, only in her suitability to someone such as himself. She was a beauty, and he was more than attracted to her, his issue was that she seemed like she would be better suited to life as a septa than the wife of the future Warden of the North. 

  She had been stiff and rehearsed if that could even be considered the right comparison, when they had met for the first time. Nothing at all like the women he had bedded before. But the bigger truth was, he had no ambition to be married, to settle down, to be a father, to start a pack of his own… his inner wolf raged against the thought, but he couldn’t admit this. No one would care anyway. Regardless, the next time they saw each other, they would be saying their vows to one another, and he wouldn’t have to wait any longer to take her to bed and get to know her the way he had truly wanted to know her over the past two moons. 

  “I expect that my father will send word announcing when we should be returning.”

  “That sounds good, very good. Speaking of—, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind relaying a private message to your Lord Father for me?” Hoster inquired. 

  “Of course, My Lord.” He replied, approaching him to retrieve the scroll that he had pulled from a pocket. 

  “My thanks, I won’t keep you much longer as I know you have more packing to do.” The Lord inclined his head and reached out and grasped his forearm in a show of respect and out of reflex he grasped Hoster’s in return. 

  “Thank you for your hospitality while we’ve been here in Riverrun, I shall make sure my father is informed of your many kindnesses.” He was trying to remind himself not to seem too excited to be leaving. 

  “I can only hope that it’s paid forward upon my Cat once she goes North as your bride.” The old Lord returned… subtle… but he heard the threat… however, it was a bit too late for all that now. If he’d wanted to have his daughter treated gently he should have made a match with a Southern Lord, there was no place for softness in the North, even less so for its Lord. 

  He nodded once more before following the Lord back toward the door that led out of his chambers. “I shall see you on the morrow before we depart?”

  “Indeed, rest well, son.” And with that Lord Hoster Tully exited his chambers, leaving him to finish his packing. Tomorrow he would be going home to his pack, tomorrow the winter winds would push him back toward the embrace of Winterfell's stone walls, and if he was lucky, Lyanna and the rest of his pack would be there waiting for him.

* * *

**The Quiet Queen**

* * *

  Rhaella moved through the keep, accepting the curtsies, bows, and the titles with grace, it was her job after all. To be the Queen. To rule alongside her husband and make the realm a better place, not that that was what truly happened. Her husband had several ideas at the moment that were now fruiting into actual events, such as the annulment between Elia and Rhaegar, and the marriage between Lyanna and Rhaegar. Her sweet Rhaegar, who was heading off toward the other side of the realm with his new bride. She approached the door to her husbands solar, knocking quietly. 

  “Enter,” his cracked voice called. She inhaled deeply, opening the door. 

  “Your grace, I came at once.” She curtseyed lowly as she said the words, closing her eyes to do so. 

  “My Queen,” another voice said respectfully. She turned towards it, eyes opening quickly. 

  “High Septon, how do you fair?” She greeted, once more playing her part in this mummery.

  “The Gods have been most kind to their humble servant, my Queen. His Grace wished to wait until you arrived before we began,” the High Septon informed her. Rhaella nodded her understanding and moved to take her seat beside her brother-husband. 

  “My son requires an annulment. His wife cannot do her duty to the crown,” Aerys began, pulling a scroll from his desk and handing it to the High Septon. The scroll from Elia. They sat in silence as the High Septon read through the content.

  “Usually, this would take… Some time. But with this letter, it changes things.”

  “Please, High Septon, what will it change?” Rhaella asked desperately. His tone made her sit uncomfortably, as though there was a matter that would seriously impact their lives.

  “Well, traditionally, an annulment means that the Princess Rhaenys and the babe that Princess Elia currently carries will be made illegitimate.”

  “Yet the grounds of annulment stand on the Princesses infertility, nothing more,” Aerys growled. The High Septon nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, this is why it is a delicate situation, Your Grace,” he agreed. Rhaella looked at her brother-husband carefully. Watching for his next move. She could not get involved, yet she knew that the High Septon was the one who made it possible for Rhaegar and Lyanna to wed, not to mention the fact that it was he who annulled Elia and Rhaegar’s marriage. This mummery was ridiculous, yet utterly necessary.

  “Princess Rhaenys shall remain legitimate, as she was born prior to this upcoming annulment of the Princess and Crown Prince. As for the babe in her stomach, this will be discussed at a later date, after it is born. Does this please the Faith enough to do the task I ask of you?” Aerys remarked. 

  The Septon paused, cocking his head slightly in thought, “On the grounds of infertility, this seems reasonable. The Gods, and the Faith will support this decision for the crown will need heirs, and a wife’s duty is to provide them, Princess or not. Do you have any idea of who will be the replacement of the Princess Consort?”

  “Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell.” Aerys answered without pausing to consider the question.

   The Septon blinked in surprise, he was far too good at playing a part in this mummery for Rhaella’s comfort, she made a note to speak to her son of that. His intentions were far too blurred for her liking.

  “A Stark… Does she worship the Old Gods?” 

  “She does. Will that be an issue?” Aerys glared, leaning forward to get a closer look at the Septon.

  “No, of course not, Your Grace, but as she is from the North, her people may be different.”

  “Her people won’t be anything. I’m going to command that they wed before the Heart Tree in Winterfell in front of her father. You must annul the marriage between Elia and Rhaegar before then. Is that clear?”

 “Of course… But of course they will need a grand ceremony! Invite all the Lords and Ladies of the realm to witness this great union! It shall be the first time a Targaryen and Stark wed—,” The High Septon prattled, squirming in his seat, “Of course, the wedding between the Prince and his future bride in the North would just be a formality, to ease the opinions of the Northern Lords, so the real ceremony will be lavish and grand. Nothing less for our future King.” He was a bold man, she couldn’t figure out if he was simple or just really dense considering who he was speaking to but she did not interrupt.

   Rhaella smiled gently, an action that contrasted with the whirlwind of emotions she was currently feeling. “Of course, High Septon. The Crown and the Faith are the pillars that help the realm through all of their troubles, a royal wedding is just what would unite the realm.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” the Septon returned with a soft grin in return, “Anything to help the realm. That is how I serve the Gods.”

  “We shall make it official by placing it in writing. My Queen, send for Jon Connington. I should like for him to be the one to draft this decree for the High Septon to sign.” Aerys commanded. 

  Rhaella bowed her head and stood from her seat, moving towards the door and through it quickly. Once again, the echoes of her title swam around her. An empty title. No power, how could she be Queen with no power? She sighed as she approached the chambers to the Lord of Griffin's Roost. She knocked delicately on the wooden door, waiting patiently for a reply.

 “Enter.” A voice called from the other side of the door. 

   She sighed deeply before opening the door herself, entering the large chambers. The Lord of Griffins looked at her in surprise, “Your Grace,” he bowed, “How can I be of assistance?”

  “It is not I that is in  need of your assistance, my Lord. The King requests your presence in his solar with the High Septon,” Rhaella told him, passing a glance over his chambers. She knew of the man's love for her son, but such a thing made him loyal to Rhaegar and by extension, loyal to the Crown. It was odd for her, watching his man who was one of Rhaegar’s closest confidants perk up at the mention of the King wishing for his presence.

  “Of course, My Queen. Do you know why he’s summoned me?” Jon Connington enquired. 

  Rhaella nodded, she knew the man was aware that her son was already married to Lyanna… Rhaegar was clever, he knew that telling anyone had risks, but he trusted his friend. 

  “It concerns the Prince’s marriage to Princess Elia. That is all I am at liberty to say,” Rhaella replied with a slight frown. Jon smirked, but then tried to shake it. As if she was a simpleton, as if she didn’t know.

  “Of course, my Queen. I shall leave at once,” he returned. He moved towards the door, holding it open for her. Rhaella stepped out, and with one final bow, he went rushing in the way she had just come from. She contemplated going back there but instead, she turned the other way. She did not wish to watch men write documents that were truly irrelevant. 

  Later on, Aerys had come to her. Telling her that Rhaegar and Lyanna would wed in the Sept of Baelor just after the new year. Rhaella had no qualms with that, and she briefly wondered what Rhaegar would think of it. He was her little boy, all grown up now, but he would forever be her boy. He had also informed her that Pycelle had officially been revoked of the majority of his duties. Aerys told her in glee about the reaction Pycelle had to his duties being cut. He had told the maester that it was because he wished for the man to focus on tutoring the Prince Viserys, though he was never alone with her son. She had made sure of it, and luckily, Aerys had agreed.  

  In the following weeks, Rhaella had been quite busy, preparing everything that her husband saw as beneath him, such as finding someone suitable to tend to the ravens, when she had not done so herself. She made sure that either she or Aerys were the first ones to read any letters. The white raven had appeared the week before, and it had shocked her. She had gone to the rookery to see if there was a letter from her beloved son, only to find the white raven staring at her. _Winter_. It had croaked. Rhaella had shivered, and rushed down to Aerys to tell him that Winter had come. She never wished to be around her brother-husband more than necessary, but he had been somewhat kinder to her, and had not been cruel with her beyond words since Rhaegar and Lyanna had departed. 

  “Mother!” A voice called, pulling Rhaella from her reminiscing. She looked down to see her youngest son tugging at her skirts, a look of distress on his face. 

  “Viserys, my dear, what troubles you?” Rhaella asked kindly, bending down to be at eye level with her youngest boy. He looked at her apprehensively. Rhaella sighed, taking his hand into her own and standing and tugging him along with her, though he quickly released himself from her grasp and walked alongside her. 

  “Come along, we shall go for a walk.” She led him through the halls. Their titles echoed around them. He was taking them with more confidence, she noticed. His behaviour in the past weeks troubled her. He had been mouthy, speaking back to her in a way that was most irregular for her five nameday old boy, it was his father's influence, she knew. Aerys had been talking about her, in a way a brother or a husband should not. She wished, just for a moment, that she had married for love, not for the prophecy that even her eldest son had bought into. Her Aunt Jenny of Oldstones had brought that woods witch to court, the Prince who was Promised will be borne of their line, she had said. Was this the prince who was promised? This young boy here who suffered night terrors and bedwetting because of a father who didn’t care? Or was it her eldest boy, born in fire and in death, gallivanting across the realm for his new bride? She watched her youngest run ahead into the gardens, she called out to him. He flinched. This is what Aerys had done to him, made him afraid of his own name being called. 

  “Yes, mother?” Viserys asked, coming over to where she was standing. Rhaella smiled softly at her boy. 

  “Tell me, Viserys. What is the name of that flower?” She asked, directing his line of vision as they walked through the gardens. 

  “Moonbloom, they’re found in Oldtown,” Viserys answered quickly, looking quite proud of his knowledge. Rhaella smiled encouragingly. 

  “And that one?”

  He paused, looking at the flower with great focus before eventually turning back to her, frustrated. 

  “I don’t know! This game is stupid, mother!” He yelled, Rhaella looked at him sadly as they arrived at their destination.

  “Come, Viserys.”

  “Why are we going in here?”

  “Do you know what these parts of the gardens are?” she asked, waving her hand at the entrance, leading him through the maze of green. Instantly, serenity overcame her senses.

  “The Godswood.” He answered. 

  “Very good. What is that tree called?”

  “That is… Mother, I hate this game! Why are we playing it?” Viserys asked angrily. More prone to temper tantrums, she noticed with a sigh.

  “You’re a Prince of the realm, my love. You must know about the realm you plan to help Rhaegar rule one day,” Rhaella replied, ever so softly. Viserys screwed up his face.

  “Rhaegar doesn’t know anything! He left us!” 

 Rhaella’s heart broke for a split second, looking around to make sure there was nobody lurking about, she knelt down to her son, “What ails you, Viserys? Please, confide in me.”

  He looked around nervously, she rubbed his small arms to soothe him until he came to sit on her lap, “Father had Beylee killed.”

 She blinked. “Who is Beylee?” She asked sympathetically. She saw tears begin to form in her young son's eyes.

  “A daughter of a kitchen maid, she was my friend. She played with me, and father saw that and had her killed. I watched her die,” Viserys sobbed, leaning his head into her chest. Rhaella rocked him, her heart had broken once more for her son. _Dragons do not mingle their blood with that of lesser men._ She was sure that was what Aerys had said when he had found out about this poor servant girl. 

 “It’s okay, my love. She is in another place now, a better place. You can play with her in your dreams,” she soothed. He broke away from her, looking at her angrily.

 “My dreams are never good! They’re cold, and— and scary, and I hate them!”

 “Viserys, listen to me.” she said firmly, taking her son and bringing him back to her, “I know, it is frightening, watching the things your father does, but next time, do not watch. Keep your eyes open, but don’t watch. Imagine you’re playing with Beylee, or me.”

  He nodded sadly, and Rhaella stood, taking his hand once more as she did so, she led him to the Great Oak tree, covered in smokeberry vines. Viserys pointed at the flowers at the bottom of the tree. “Dragon’s Breath.”

  Rhaella smiled, “Yes.”

  Viserys moved away from her, “Can we play a game, mother?”

  “What do you wish to play, sweetling?”

 Viserys frowned, “Monsters and maidens?”

 Rhaella laughed sweetly, “Shall I be the monster?”

  “No!” The boy yelled, appalled, “Mother, you are the Queen. You’re the maiden!”  

   She smiled at him wickedly, moving away from him, “I suppose I best start running from my monster.”

  She began to jog away from her son, suddenly aware of how much exercise she had not gotten lately, since Aerys had forbidden her from exiting the keep without a valid reason. But there never was one. She heard the quick footsteps of Viserys following her own. 

  “No! Please spare me, I am but an innocent maid!” Rhaella called with laughter in her tone, she heard her son giggle behind her. 

  “Roar! I am a mighty dragon. Nothing can defeat me!” He roared, causing Rhaella to chuckle. She slowed her pace until Viserys jumped out in front of her. 

  “Please! Mighty beast, give me mercy! Don’t harm me!” Rhaella cried, a smile on her face. Viserys frowned. 

  “Don’t worry, mother. I would never harm you,” Viserys said seriously, wrapping his small arms around as much of her as he could. 

  “I love you, my sweet boy,” Rhaella whispered, falling to her knees to embrace him properly. 

  “Love you too, mama,” Viserys replied in a whisper. Rhaella felt tears spring to her eyes. This was her boy. Rhaella placed a delicate kiss on her son's forehead. 

  “What’s that one?” Viserys asked, pointing at something over her shoulder. Rhaella turned, making sure to keep Viserys in her grasp, and found herself smiling at the sight. 

  “Weirwood trees,” Rhaella answered. Viserys cocked his head in puzzlement. 

  “I thought they were meant to be big?”

  Rhaella found herself smiling even wider at the thought, “One day, my sweet. Weirwoods will grow forever if they are left alone. These will be so tall that even giants could not reach the top, so beautiful that even the fairest maidens in the land will look dim-”

  “But mother, giants don’t exist. Father said so.”

  “Ah, but that is where he is wrong. Do you remember about the Wall from your lessons?”

  Viserys nodded his head in affirmation, his eyes wide with fascination, so she continued, “Well, far beyond the Wall, there are all sorts of wild things. Giants are the most regular of all.”

  “What else is there, mama?”

  Rhaella smiled softly at the name change, “There are mammoths, which are said to bear the stress of giants. There are Children of the Forest, who were here long before even the First Men—”

  “But Maester Pycelle told me that they’re extinct!”

  Rhaella resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the mention of the Grand Maester. “Mayhaps in the Seven Kingdoms, but nobody truly knows. But they say that the Children were the ones who carved the faces into the weirwoods.”

  Viserys looked at her with a horrified but fascinated expression, “Trees with faces?”

  Rhaella hummed, “Yes. They say that the Children carved the faces so that the Old Gods could watch the realm through their eyes. That’s why you can never lie in front of a Weirwood.”

  “Will these ones have a face?” Viserys asked, curiously.

  Rhaella smiled gently, “No, my love. Not unless you plan on carving them yourself.”

  “No! We believe in the Seven, right mama?” Viserys sounded absolutely appalled. 

  “Our ancestors have, but you can believe in whatever you wish. Do you know about Brynden Rivers, also known as Bloodraven?”

  Viserys shook his head, “He was a bastard though, his name is Rivers.”

  “Yes, he was one of Aegon the Unworthy’s Great Bastards. He also possessed the coloring of a Weirwood.”

  Viserys giggled, “How can a man look like a tree, mama?”

  “He had pale white skin, pale silver hair, but his eyes were the same colour of those leaves. He went North, to serve in the Night's Watch after being sentenced by your great grandfather Aegon the Unlikely. He served as Hand of the King to both King Aerys I and Maekar I, and remained loyal to our House during the Blackfyre Rebellions. He was even partly responsible for Aegon the Fifth being crowned as King which made it possible for our line to rule.”

   Viserys looked to be considering her words. “Like father!”

  Rhaella smiled tightly, “Yes. He even escorted your Great-Uncle Aemon to the Wall.”

  “Was he a warrior, mama?” Viserys asked.

  “He was. He had a Weirwood bow, and wielded Dark Sister when he went beyond the Wall.” She answered.

  “Is he dead?” He asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

  Rhaella blinked at the question before sighing, “It is unknown how, but he was presumed dead beyond the Wall and he never returned, sweetling.”

  Viserys frowned, “Maybe he fell into a pool of water and got frozen. Maybe I can go beyond the Wall to defrost him with my Dragons Breath and he can give me Dark Sister so I can fight on Rhaegar's Kingsguard!”

  Rhaella chuckled at her sons wild imagination, “Mayhap when you’re older, my love. For now, I believe that it is time to have our evening meal.”

  “Okay, mama,” Viserys replied with a frown once more. 

  Rhaella grinned. “But first, make me a promise, remember, you cannot lie in front of a Weirwood.”

 Viserys nodded in earnest, “Anything, mama.”

 “Promise to protect the innocent, and defenseless. Promise to stay with me forever.”

 “I promise, mama. Can you promise me something?”

 Rhaella felt tears spring to her eyes, “Of course. What is it?”

 “Promise me that I can have lemon cakes after our meal,” Viserys giggled. Rhaella joined his laughter. 

 “Anything for you, my love.” 

* * *

**The Alpha-Wolf**

* * *

  The following days were much like the days that followed maester Aemon’s arrival from the Wall. When he wasn’t attending to his daily duties, he was with maester Aemon, Ned, Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar, going through the missives that he had recovered during his initial search of Walys chambers. 

  Three days following their arrival, on the first day of the tenth moon Lyanna’s prediction was confirmed at last. The White Raven from the Citadel arrived with the sunrise, and Aemon sent word straight away to his chambers to confirm what he had confided with him in regards to Lyanna. 

  She was absolutely radiant when she joined him for first meal, and he could tell that she had also heard the news. She was clearly pleased by this, if for nothing other than the sake of being proven correct, yet again. 

Unfortunately, with winter came problems of its own. He had hoped that Brandon would be able to spend at least another moon in Riverrun getting to know his betrothed but with winter returning, he would have no choice but to send for Brandon to make his way home. 

  He had met with the Crowned Prince the morning following the arrival of their party. And though he wasn’t comfortable with all the subterfuge surrounding his daughter's nuptials, he could also understand why they had taken the precautions that they had in this regard. That the prince loved his daughter, there was no doubt in his heart. But he had concerns regarding his first wife and the babe she now carries, even though the prince had informed him of her formal request to have their vows annulled by the Faith. 

  Fortunately, his vows before the heart tree and their combined Ink Marks were more binding than any vows said before the Seven and by all the laws in Westeros the Marks supersede any and all previous vows. And the two, or four as it were, are considered a true match in sight of all the Gods, Old and New. And no contract that was made by a man, no matter if he’s a King or a Prince or even a High Septon could be considered more binding under circumstances such as theirs. 

  However, he could totally understand why his good-son had chosen to conceal the matter from his father and King. After listening to the Prince’s report about his father’s decaying mental faculties, it was a wonder that someone hadn’t put a sword through his chest already. For a Kingdom who takes it's pride in  hiding their monsters behind fancy titles and oaths about protecting the weak and the innocent, there certainly seemed to be a shortage of men within the Capital who put their own safety behind those who needed a savior the most. He’d had a mind to ask that very question of the Prince, but he decided against it. The Kingsguard whom had traveled with him and his party had obviously chosen their side of the conflict. Yet still he wondered who was protecting the Queen and her young son, with the morally conscious members of Aerys kingsguard clearly not residing within the Red Keep. 

  Of course they had spoken of many different topics, though Lyanna had been the main point of focus. What had shocked him the most, however, was his position on his little she-pup’s less than ladylike approach to life. He was prepared to apologize for any misbehavior on her part, but his good-son was quick to correct his assumption. As it turned out, he was quite put out by the idea that Lyanna’s nature had been suppressed by not only himself, but by the influence of his maester. Long story short, he intended to support Lyanna's desire to train with sword or bow or lance should her heart desire to learn them as would any of their children, both male and female. 

  There was little he could say on the matter, for as much as Lyanna was his pup, she was also the wife of the future king and as such, it was under his jurisdiction to decide which activities she could participate in and which activities were prohibited. And even though Rickard had been sure that the Crowned Prince had been chastising him about this, he found the entire encounter quite satisfying by the time it was over. For surely if the prince was willing to confront him over Lyanna’s happiness, there would be little else that he wouldn’t do to see that she was cared for and treasured. Which, at the end of the day was what he had promised his Lyarra he would provide for their she-pup. 

  Currently he was heading to his solar where he was expecting to be joined by Ned and his Lady wife. They had spoken a few sentences here and there, but nothing significant since their arrival four days past. With all that was going on in Winterfell, the new arrivals, Walys, and of course, both of his children returning and married at that, there were too many things that needed to be tended to before he could sit and have this conversation with them. 

  They arrived arm in arm, Ned looking as solemn and stoic as he could, while his wife was surely the maiden made flesh. She had a smile that shone as brightly as the violet of her eyes and he could see a fierceness in her that reminded him of Lyanna. He could see right away that this was a good match for them both. 

  Once they had entered and taken their respective seats, he opened the conversation. “Firstly, I would like to welcome you to the family officially. Are you finding everything to your satisfaction here in Winterfell? 

  His sons Lady wife did not hesitate in her reply, which he found he appreciated, though she was clearly more refined in her mannerisms compared to Lyanna. “I find the North as a whole quite beautiful. I wasn’t sure what to expect, as this is my first trip North, but both Ned and Princess Lyanna made time to tell me all about their home and I find that their stories did not disappoint. Winterfell is beautiful and the rooms you’ve provided are more than satisfying, thank you.” She finished with a genuine smile which he returned happily. 

  “I hope you can forgive my bluntness, but I have a tendency to get to the point quickly. Typically when a man and a woman are wed, much correspondence is sent between the heads of the two Houses that will be joining. I’m bringing this up now, because I have made no such arrangements with your kin and that has left me rather curious about what my next step should be in regards to the head of your House. Has the Lord Dayne been informed of your wedding to my Ned?”

  Ashara nodded before she replied. “My brother Arthur was there to give me away, so that takes care of most of the issue. However, my brother Aedric is aware of my marriage to Ned and I do believe that he is awaiting a raven from you now that we’ve finally arrived. I am sure that you both have matters to discuss, though I can assure you that Aedric has long realized that I would be the one to choose my Lord Husband and as such, he fully supports this match.”

  He nodded, as this conversation was turning out to be much easier than he had anticipated. The three of them sat there in his solar for quite some time going over future plans. He had asked where they intended to live and what their immediate plans were now that they were married. The truth was, he was hoping they would stay in the North. 

  Unfortunately, his son would not make him any promises. Instead he listened to his son tell him that he had plans to travel to Dorne once Lyanna and the Prince depart Winterfell.

  “I promised that before I make any permanent decisions I would speak to both Ashara and Lyanna. But we had all agreed to remain together for now, at least until we know more about our marks. So I suppose that my home will be wherever Lyanna is until something else comes up.” Ned answered for both himself and his wife who was smiling at him approvingly. 

  He wasn't quite sure how to argue in opposition of his logic so rather than argue his point, he nodded. His pups were growing up and soon it would be just himself, and mayhap Brandon and his bride and some children running through the halls. 

 It was a lovely thought, and for some reason he thought not for the first time what it might feel like to have more children of his own… how different things might feel had he taken another wife after Lyarra departed. 

* * *

  **The Knowing One**

* * *

  The day had finally come, today they would be meeting with Walys. Rhaegar had spent the past two days discussing the matter with his Lady wife and they both had agreed with his findings. Now all that was left to do was confront the man. 

  Lord Rickard had chosen the Godswood as the place where Walys would be questioned, in front of the Weirwood, as he claimed that it was impossible to tell a lie before the Heart Tree. He knew of course that any trial conducted before the carved face of a Weirwood could also be witnessed by the Three-eyed Raven. 

  This time, they were joined by not only Lord Eddard, but his Lady wife Ashara, the Princess Lyanna, both members of Rhaegar’s kingsguard, the young Lord Benjen as well as the Lord Howland Reed, who had arrived long before them all and was currently concealed within the branches of the Heart Tree. Whether or not anyone knew of his presence, Aemon couldn’t say, nor was it his place to draw attention to this fact. 

  Walys was brought to the Godswood by two household guards who remained by his side through the proceedings. The mood was tense as they all watched him enter, but Walys managed to keep up is façade the entire time. 

  Without delay, Lord Rickard began. “Walys Flowers, you have been brought here today to face questioning. You know of the reasons you are being held as a prisoner?” He questioned, following protocol. 

  “On the contrary, My Lord, I cannot think of one reason that I deserve to be treated thusly.” Walys replied coolly. 

  The Princess shifted beside her husband, but she did not speak out. Instead it was his nephew, the Prince who approached. “You stand accused of breaking your vows to the Citadel, by serving not the castle you are assigned to, but the faction with which you owe allegiance. You stand accused of treason and conspiracy against the crown, for plotting with the Lord of Casterly Rock and the Citadel as well as the Grand Maester and House Hightower. You stand accused of conspiracy to commit murder, of treason for meddling in the affairs of your Lord in order to secure a marriage pact without leave to do so. You are accused of a great many things, most of which can be verified through the evidence you left inside your personal chambers. The rest, through the confessions of your accomplices, what say you to these charges?” 

  Walys face paled as each of his charges were laid out in front of him. But it wasn’t until Rhaegar insinuated that his co-conspirators were also in custody that Aemon saw him truly panic. 

  “I’ve served Winterfell for nearly twenty years, all I’ve done has always been in the best interest of Winterfell and the North.” He pleaded. 

  “Come now, maester Walys, let us get to the bottom of this. I’m sure there must be a reasonable explanation for everything. Mayhap if you explain we can reach a reasonable solution.” Lyanna cajoled, approaching him finally. 

 “What— what is it you need from me?” He asked, eyeing her with trepidation. 

  The Princess smiled with all the grace and poise of her Direwolf. Obviously pleased with the maesters response. 

  “Very good, I’m glad that you are finally starting to understand. First, I would like to introduce you to some friends of mine.” She purred. 

  From within the dense tree line, eight figures emerged. Three of them he recognized from the many weeks he had been in residence, but this was the first time that more wolves had ventured into the castle along side the others. Of the five newcomers, two were black and grey, another was mostly white with grey markings, and the other two were mostly grey but one had more brown mixed into its coat. 

  They hardly made a sound as they circled around the prisoner, each making sure the maester knew that it was Lyanna who would decide his fate. Aemon almost felt bad for him. Almost…

 “I'm going to ask you some questions. I want you to answer truthfully, and I’ll warn you now that I’ve no tolerance for duplicity in front of my Gods. And I’m sure that you know by now how strongly my connection to the Old Gods runs. Don’t you?” She questioned. Testing his resolve as well as his understanding. 

  Walys nodded. 

  “Very good. I suppose we can begin then.” She glanced around at all the faces present within the Godswood, making sure everyone was ready for her to begin. 

  When she was satisfied, she asked her first question, “Have you always been here to investigate our House and report back to your higher ups?”

  “I have served Winterfell loyally, My Lady.” Walys began. Beside him, the large black she-wolf bared her teeth.

 “I thought that we agreed to be truthful with one another.” She crooned, mockingly. “Shall we try again? I’ll start, you shall address me by my title. Your Grace shall suffice.” 

  Walys eyes went wide, clearly not expecting to hear her utter those words, but he said nothing about it. 

  “My mother was a Hightower, my father a maester of the citadel. I am loyal to my vows, to my order but also to my House.” He confessed, and Aemon knew that this was his own sort of truth.

  He cast his gaze to Rhaegar who approached his wife and he nodded that this answer was truthful. 

  “And what is it that the Citadel wants you to accomplish within our House? And keep in mind I have the evidence I need already, I just want to hear you confirm it.” Lyanna spoke in an even tone. Though he could hear the ice lying just beneath the surface. 

  “They are interested in the rumors of wargs and skin changers, as well as hidden dragon eggs, and any artifact that could have been passed down from the Children of the Forest.” Walys let the words tumble out of his mouth. 

  Lyanna asked him more questions than he had known of. What was the motivation? What was his reward for the services he was providing? Who was the mastermind behind this conspiracy? What was their end goal? Of course not all of his answers were forthcoming, even when he had three Direwolves mere inches from ripping pieces of him away. 

  It was at that point that something in his nephew snapped, and Rhaegar approached the disgraced maester. “You will answer to my wife, let me make this clear. For there are much worse fates than death, I’m sure that you are aware of how my father deals with threats to our House. Imagine what he will do to you if I decide to take you South to King's Landing to face the King's Justice.” His voice was low, but there was a fire blazing in his eyes. 

  After that Walys let it all spill from his lips. The conspiracy to rid the realm of magical influences, the work of Pycelle to keep the Queen from delivering a pure blooded Targaryen Princess that could have one day married the Crowned Prince. The background work to remove Aerys from the throne while also working to discredit his Heir and destabilize the realms support of House Targaryen. And just when he thought he had heard it all, he told them of the Citadels involvement with the storming of the Dragonpit, the gradual poisoning of the dragons who were housed within the pit, as well as the citadels involvement at Summerhall that resulted in the loss of his brother Egg and his nephews. 

  Walys had confirmed all of Aemon’s suppositions and then some that he hadn’t even considered. And had they not been standing within the Godswood, in front of so many people, he may have passed out from the shock.

  He had been locked away on that Wall too long, doing his duty for his House, for the Realm. That is what he had told himself all those years ago, but that was no longer the case anymore. His duty was done, he had returned Blackfyre back to his House, and he had no doubt that she would reach the hands of the man meant to wield her when the time is right. The threat beyond the Wall is real, and that is why he had stayed, but the people who need to know about this were all here, and already knew. _What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms … or the memory of a brother's smile?_ He had given up the chance to feel his own son in his arms, but his nephew’s son? _Mayhap it isn’t too late…_

In the end, it had been decided that Walys would face execution, though not when. Rhaegar had stripped the man of his chain of office right after he was done speaking and promised him that he would meet a swift end, just before the two guards who had brought him, came and escorted him to the castle cells rather than the chamber he had been given previously.

  He wanted a moment to speak with his nephew, however, he also needed a moment to himself to collect his thoughts and clear his mind from everything that he had just learned. He motioned for Benjen to escort him, and he excused himself before he headed back to the Maesters Tower. On the way, Benjen was joined by one of the other wolves who had shown up; the grey and brown one, and he couldn't help but feel glad that one of them had chosen to adopt the young lad. He could see that the boy was considering life as a man of the Night’s Watch once he was a man grown because he felt that he had no place among his pack. He thought that perhaps this might change his mind and mayhap remind him that their pack is strongest together. 

* * *

  **The She-Wolf**

* * *

  It wasn’t until after the white Raven arrived from the Citadel that she was finally able to make some time to speak with her father about everything. She had risen early, knowing that now that they had come to a decision in regards to Walys she would be able to spend the day shadowing her father the way she had always done when times were more simple.

  After breaking her fast and excusing herself from training with Arthur, she made her way to her father's solar, where she was certain he would be. Most likely going over accounts and handling the small matters that she had left for him from the previous days while he had been preoccupied. She knocked lightly before letting herself in, the way she would have before she had become a princess. Knowing that he wouldn’t mind her intrusion. 

  He was standing by the window when she entered, looking out over the yard, but when he heard her he turned and greeted her with a smile. “Your Grace,” he teased her, knowing that she hated the fuss of titles and the like, yet she could not find it in her to argue this point with him.

  Instead, she answered him in return. “My Lord, I was hoping that I might have a bit of your time.” She said with a smile.

  Her Lord Father gestured toward a chair and he chose the one just beside it, rather than moving to sit beside his desk as he normally would have. “What brings you to see me, little pup?” He questioned, with warmth in his tone. Something that she had not grown up knowing once her Lady Mother departed.

  She straightened her back and met him eye to eye, she was his pup, this was true and would always remain so, but she was also a Stark of Winterfell and one day she would be a queen, it was time for her to stop hiding from his piercing blue-grey gaze. 

  “As you know, we were able to locate the Ice Gate on the lowest level of the crypts,” she began. 

  “Aye, I’m aware. Is there something wrong?” He questioned, obviously cautious of where this conversation was heading.

  “Nothing is the matter, I am sorry if I gave that impression, I just wanted to go over some safety precautions with you and I was hoping that we could come to an agreement.” She attempted to ease her father's suspicions.

  Her father nodded his understanding. “You have my attention, tell me what I can do for you.”

  Nodding, she began. “When I arrived, we spoke about this briefly. About what precautions we would need to take once the gate was located and at the time I explained to you my motivations for wanting the First Keep restored, but now I want to make a request of you. You see, now that the Gate is active, we will be returning back to Dragonstone through it. Because of this it would be more prudent to make sure that the First Keep and the entrance to the Godswood via the Crypts start functioning separate from the rest of the Castle and that the guards be further vetted and can be trusted to not reveal when the royal family is within or without the grounds. There is also the matter of restoring the Broken Tower and I would like it if you allowed me and Rhaegar to pay for them to be done. My request may seem a bit odd to you right now, but a part of me knows that my children will have just as much of the North in them as they will the South, if not more and the Tower will be important to them in the coming years, I just know it.” 

  Her father sat there in silence, observing her and absorbing everything that she had just spoken of in regards to security and the like, though he did not seem like he was opposed to the idea, so she relaxed back in her seat and waited for him to speak.

  “I won't lie to you, with winter returning, work on the Broken Tower will have to be postponed but as I have said before, I am not opposed to having it restored for you, just know that this is no small project and I will need blueprints for what you’ve envisioned. As for the personal guard, this could take some time. What I propose for now is a lock that I can have commissioned for the doors to the crypts and keys made for the members of our pack who should never be locked away from our dead. The other option I can think of is placing another door on the lower levels that can also be locked, this way those who visit can not go any further than appropriate. Give me some time to work this out and I will get back to you with a solution, hmm?” 

  This was promising, and far more than she had hoped for in truth, so she nodded her head in agreement. “And what about when we have a need to use the gate? How will we keep the household staff from gossiping about the strange comings and goings of their Lords daughter and her royal company?”

   Her father shifted in his seat at the implication that the staff in Winterfell would assume that they were not wed. “About that, There was a raven from King’s Landing.” 

  She raised a brow, this was the first she had heard about communications from the Red Keep. “Forgive me Father, but do you plan to share or do you seek to torture me through curiosity?” She tried jesting to lighten the somber tone their conversation had taken on.

  “It would seem that King Aerys managed to secure an annulment between Princess Elia and Prince Rhaegar and he commands that he should like to see our two Houses joined through marriage. He commands that the Prince and you be wed here in Winterfell before you journey South again, where he plans to have you marry in the Great Sept of Baylor following the turn of the new year.” He told her and from the expression on his face, she knew that he was serious.

  “Well, I won't lie to you, I hadn’t expected this kind of response from the King. Do you know if this scroll was sent to all the lords of the realm, or whether it was a direct missive from King’s Landing to here.” Not that it would matter in the long run, but she had a thing about wanting to pick apart the King’s motivations and with her not there to temper his flames she could only wonder how he was handling things on his own.

  Her father shook his head. “This scroll was sent directly addressed to me, another arrived for the Prince at the same time. I know that you both have already stated your vows before a Heart Tree, so this is hardly necessary, but I know that having some Northern Lords present would do much to satisfy their curiosity, and having it here will only strengthen Rhaegar’s claim on you. No man in his right mind would question a northern wedding hosted in Winterfell, especially when I am there to give you away myself. So, what do you say, will you allow your Lord Father the chance to see his only she-pup marry the man she was destined for?”

  She wanted to rage at the implication that someone would seek to lay claim to her, she was a woman, not property, but this was not the time nor the place for such outbursts, so she kept that thought to herself. The truth was, she would marry Rhaegar a thousand times if that was what it took for the realm to side with him when the time was upon them. This whole conversation was completely unnecessary, but she found herself wiping a stray tear from her eyes. “Of course we will renew our vows here. I would love nothing more than to marry Rhaegar again with you here to give me away.” She told him honestly. 

  She knew that this complicated things for Rhaegar as far as setting the King aside, because the lords would want answers, but their time to prove the legitimacy of their vows was running out, unless they intended to reveal their marks which Rhaegar wasn’t quite ready for. There was also a small nagging feeling that Aerys was on to them. Mayhap he wasn’t aware that they were already married, but he suspected their intimacy, why else rush to see them wed, especially before Elia is expected to deliver her babe? The fact that Aerys knew nothing of whether the child Elia carried was Rhaegar’s or not didn’t help to ease her questions either.

  Subconsciously, her hand traveled to cradle her stomach. She was not showing, nor had anyone confirmed her condition, but she had been dreaming more frequently of times spent in the Godswood, the ground covered in frost and snow, of her belly round and heavy from the weight of her babes. The confirmation process was a mere formality at this point, and the only thing that was keeping her from telling her father here and now. 

  “Very well, we shall have another ceremony here in Winterfell.” She replied with a smile. “In truth, the little girl in me wanted her father there to give her away, and secretly I was hoping you would indulge me once we arrived.” She confessed. 

  “My sweet pup, had circumstances been different, I would not have missed your big day for the world, you know that, don’t you?” Her father asked, worry lacing his tone.

  “Of course I do Father, but there must always be a Stark in Winterfell. Which is why I’ve been thinking...” She began, her heart starting to beat a bit faster inside her chest. The truth was, she had been thinking about this, but she had no idea how she should set about proposing this idea to the head of her House.

  He shifted in his chair and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Should I be nervous?” He asked, mirthfully.

  He knew her so well, her ideas were never so innocent, and seldom had she had any luck convincing him to indulge her. Without realizing what she was doing, she began to worry at her bottom lip and wring her hands slightly in her lap. 

  This however did not go unnoticed by her father, and before she could speak, he reached out and took her hands into his, stilling them long enough to gain her attention and then he spoke. “Hey, sweet pup, stop this fussing. Whatever it is that has you in such a state, it can’t be any worse than you dressing up as a mystery knight to defend our bannermen at a tourney that is being attended by our king, who is more than likely mad.” 

  He had meant it as a jest, a way to lighten the mood but his words made her frown. There was no doubt that the King's mental faculties were scrambled, but another part of her knew that this wasn’t something he had any control over. This madness that had taken root in him was a direct result of another person's attempt to break him. And they had obviously succeeded because there was nothing that could be done to restore him for his family, for her husband, or the realm. She shook her head, clearing herself of those thoughts and fixed her stare back on her father. 

   “There must always be a Stark in Winterfell Father, and with everything that has happened, this statement is more true than ever. I know that after mother, you found contentment with the four of us and your duties, but I think that perhaps you should consider taking another wife. You’re in your prime, and we have no reason to suspect that you would not be able to produce more children. Lord Walder Frey is more than twenty years your senior and he is still producing heirs.” She began, but paused when she saw the confused look on her father's face. 

  “Have I offended you?” She asked, hesitantly.

  He chuckled lightly. “Nay, sweet girl, you have not offended me. Shocked me?  Mayhap, but never offended, not with you. Tell me, what made you think to broach this subject?” 

  “It is as I’ve said, winter is coming, and the pack must grow if we are to survive it. We are spread too thinly with only the five of us, and now that I’m wedded to the prince, Winterfell will need more wolves.”

  He nodded his head, indicating that he understood. “And it would not bother you if I took another Lady to wife? What about Ben and Ned and Bran, have you spoken with them about all of this? The pack is going to grow now that the three of you are married, would it not complicate things to add half siblings into the mix?” 

  There were never any guarantees when it came to circumstances such as these, but she was certain that her father had many good years of life ahead of him, and if she could see him happy, like the way he had been with her Lady Mother, that is what she wished for. Plus, having more children would not change the line of succession. Brandon would always be his heir, and his first born son would be the heir after him. Though neither had to worry over such things right now, and there was no reason to worry over such things. 

  “Brandon is young and strong, as is Ned and Ben. And any child that is of your seed will be a part of this pack, nothing will change that. Mayhap there will be no more children, you don’t have to take a younger woman, but I would like to see you happy again. I would like to know that when I can’t be here with you, that you’re not alone. Is that too much to hope for?” She asked, hoping that her words were able to penetrate through the ice wall that he had built around his heart after her mother had departed. 

  “Nay, it is not too much to hope for. I will think on what you’ve said, and I swear not to sweep this matter under the rug. Will that satisfy Her Grace for the time being?” He asked, cleverly avoiding making a commitment. 

 “For the time being,” she agreed with a smile. 

  She spent the rest of her morning with her father, while he worked on his accounts and took care of his lordly duties, she sat tucked away in his solar with a book in her hand, the way she had always done. Around Noon, Nan came to fetch her and bring her to have her afternoon meal with her brothers and good-sister, while taking a moment to fuss at her Lord Father about taking time to eat and refresh his mind. There were still many matters to work through, especially now that Bran had been summoned home and her Lord Father was making plans to have her vows renewed but she felt a sense of calm wash over her. In her mind, the largest issues were the council, and removal of the King from the throne and Robert. But there was little she could do about any of it, so instead she allowed Nan to lead her from her father's solar with the intent of stuffing her full of berry tarts and all of the other foods that Nan had spoiled her with when she was but a girl. 

* * *

  **The Silver Prince**

* * *

  After the raven announcing the return of winter arrived, Winterfell was in a state of controlled chaos. 

Stores were being checked, plans to replenish the wood supply were being made, hunting parties were put together and Lyanna had made plans to attend the hunt so that she could keep an eye on the wolves. To top it all off, Lord Rickard had sent letters to the lords of the North requesting their presence in Winterfell. 

  As it turned out, his father had also decided to send news of his own. Elia’s letter had done its job, and he was “officially” clear to take Lyanna as his bride. Unfortunately, he had also commanded that they were to be in the Capital no later than the last week of the twelfth moon to prepare for the ceremony at the Great Sept. Though he had no issue following the customs of the Faith, this request stunk of the High Septons meddling. The man meant to undermine the validity of northern marriage customs. _To hell with that, I will not have our union questioned by any man, High Septon or not._ He decided then and there that he would seek out his good-father. If there was a way to bring a Septon to Winterfell for their ceremony, he would wed Lyanna in the same manner that he had wed her on the Isle of Faces. 

  There were other matters that he needed to take care of. Namely the fact that his father had managed to figure out Lyanna was the Mystery Knight. And while he had made no mention of punishment, he made it clear that this would be his bargaining chip, and that he fully intended to make this detail known once the invitations to attend the wedding were sent out. A part of him wanted to panic but another part of him, the part that understood his father, knew that if he’d meant to harm Lyanna, they would have never made it off Dragonstone. 

  They had time to do what needed to be done, but they would need to start focusing their efforts on the next Council meeting. He would much prefer a peaceful transition to a bloody war. 

  He moved about his chambers, gathering some of the documents that he had brought with him from Dragonstone, and once he had everything he needed he went to call upon his good-brother Ned. Over the past few moons, the two of them had gotten to know each other quite well, though he was sure that he could never fill the shoes of the foster brother Ned had come to love, there was a sort of camaraderie between the two of them that he had only ever felt around Arthur and Oswell. Even with Jon, things never felt so easy but his good brother shared a lot of the same character traits as himself, and he was hopeful that Ned would consider coming to the Capital once things were settled with his father, as there were quite a few positions on his Small Council that he could see Ned filling. Not to mention how close Ashara and Lyanna and Elia had all become over the past few moons. He didn’t want to even think of how alone Lyanna would feel without one or both of them there.

  They found his good-father sitting in his solar, going over his books. Eddard entered first, announcing  their presence. “Come in, I’m glad that you’re both here. There are some matters that I need to discuss with the two of you.”

  For some reason, whenever he was in his good-father's company, he had a way of making him feel like a green-boy about to be sat down for a _talk_. Nevertheless he took his seat across the table, Eddard pulled up the one beside him and they waited for Rickard to continue.

  “Before you tell me all about what has brought you here, I wanted to give you an update in regards to the ceremony for you and Lyanna.” 

  Rhaegar nodded his understanding. “Please do.”

  “Lords Glover, Cerwyn, Hornwood, Manderly, Cassel, Liddle, Locke and Bolton have responded to the ravens. And of course House Reed will be in attendance. As for the others, it’s possible that both Lords Karstark and Umber will be able to make it, though I have not received a response as of yet, however the Mountain Clans will likely miss out, as will the Mormonts of Bear Island. Maege did respond however, she was wondering if Lyanna would be interested in having her daughter Dacy attend her as a Lady, once you return.”

  Rhaegar sat forward and cleared his throat before he spoke. “I will be sure to ask her about it, but the decision of course is Lyanna’s. I once jested that I would be happy to order my Kingsguard to attend her if that is what she wanted.” He said, trying to lighten the tone of their conversation.

  If his good-father found his statement amusing, he didn’t let it show. Which settled the matter apparently. “Very well, What brings the two of you to see me?” Lord Rickard asked. 

  Rhaegar reached out to Lord Rickard, handing him the documentation that he had brought with him and waited for him to take it. 

  “What’s this?” 

  “It’s the legal documents that prove Elia and I had our marriage annulled almost a year ago. Not only that but there was a proper time period between our annulment and my marriage to Lyanna. Furthermore, I not only married her in the sight of the Old Gods, there was also a Septon present to bind us in the ways of the Seven.” Rhaegar explained as Lord Rickard looked over the documentation. 

  “I see—, Forgive me,  but why are you showing me this?” Lord Rickard asked. 

  “Because I do not want to give anyone a reason to question the validity of our union. Ink Marks aside, until I’m prepared to release that information, I was hoping that you would be able to have Lord Manderly send his Septon North to take part in our ceremony, or at the very least sign off on it.” 

  Lord Rickard looked confused. “You will have to forgive me, but it sounds as if you’re saying that vows made before the Heart Tree aren’t considered binding. It sounds like you are saying that any ceremony I preside over won’t be considered legal, and if that’s the case every child born in the North since the moment we took the Old Gods as our own should be considered a bastard. Is that what You’re saying?”

  He had to fix this, and quickly. “Not at all, My Lord. I chose and crowned Lyanna in all the ways sacred to your people’s ancient customs as well as wed her in front of the World Tree. Our Marks were given by the Nameless Ones, I would never insinuate that they are not binding. I would have preferred that our first union was enough, alas it was not. And I’m only asking for a Septon now, because I can see the meddling of the faith in this command.” 

  He pointed toward the message that his father had sent along with the message that his good-father had received. “They want us to marry in the Sept of Baylor following the turn of the year. After the ceremony held here in Winterfell. Doing so undermines the entire point of us marrying here. This is why I make this request of you. My father wants to bind the Direwolf to the Dragon, this is as much about power as it is manipulation. He intends that Lyanna get pregnant sooner rather than later, that is why he gave us permission to marry in the ways of the Old Gods. If Lyanna and I arrive in King's Landing and she is already with child when we go in front of the realm to speak our vows before the Seven, what makes you think that someone in the faith won’t name our child a bastard? I won’t take chances with her, nor our children.” 

  Lord Rickard sat there for a while, taking in everything that he had said, eventually he nodded his head. “Very well, but I trust that this nonsense will be addressed at some point during your reign. The Old Gods have held dominion over Westeros since before mankind ever walked these lands. I find it grossly unjust that our customs are considered the alternative.”

  He had every intention to see that the faith and their cronies were reminded of their place, though talking about it meant little. Which at this point in time is all he could do. There was still time to deal with the issue that the Starry Sept and the Faith of the Seven present. Especially once they knew that Dragons have returned. 

  “I give you my word that this matter is one I’ve already made plans to address, and I thank you for your understanding. As for the ceremony, I’m sure that there will be no need to have the Septon from White Harbor officiate it beside you. Having him here and able to witness the union should be enough. Especially with these documents that prove that we are already wed in all the ways of the Seven. I was just hoping to cover all of our bases.” He finally replied. 

  Rickard nodded, accepting his vow. “And what is the other matter with which you’ve come?”

  “I think it’s time that we begin discussions about another Great Council. Lyanna can’t be in the Capital at all times to keep Aerys from burning men, women and children, innocent and guilty alike. It’s only a matter of time until he becomes unstable once more, or until his sycophants begin whispering their treason in his ears.” Rhaegar stated. 

  His good-father cleared his throat. “I see, what of Harrenhal? How likely were your prospects during the tournament?” 

  “Dorne is on board, we had thought the Westerlands would be decided, but when the King named Ser Jaime all bets were off. When Lyanna was then crowned as my Queen of Love and Beauty in place of Elia or Cersei, I’m sure Tywin felt he was yet again slighted. He did send correspondence while we were on Dragonstone, claiming that he was still in a position to support me if I keep his heir in mind after I sit the throne. He also mentioned that he thinks Robert would be amenable to support me if I returned Lyanna back into his care.” He finished, passing him yet another scroll, this one the missive from Tywin. 

  Lord Rickard glanced over the written words, his blue-grey eyes were calm, but Rhaegar saw the way that his jaw clenched at the end where Lyanna was mentioned as a bargaining chip. As if Robert had any right to make such requests. 

  “Tywin cannot be trusted. Not after everything we’ve learned about him. But he cannot be excluded, which means we will have to be careful when we meet with the rest of the lords. What about Lord Arryn and Lord Tully?” Rickard asked.

  “As you know, Jon is quite loyal to myself and Robert, and until now, he’s believed that Robert was legitimately betrothed to Lyanna. I spoke with him before we departed at Harrenhal and he gave his word that he would await your word on when and where the next council would be held. As for Hoster, he did not attend so we do not know his position on the council, but we were hoping that you might.” Ned said, replying to his father. 

  “Why would you assume I would know Lord Hosters mind?” Rickard asked, suspiciously. 

  Rhaegar knew that this was the moment, he had to say it and get it over with so he took in a deep breath and he began. “Might I be completely transparent?” He asked, lest he not offend him before he even got his question out. 

  “You may,” His good-father allowed. 

  “After we spoke with Walys something was confirmed. During the battle of the Nine-Penny King's, you fought alongside Lord Tywin, my Father, Lord Hoster, Lord Steffon and Lord Arryn. You spoke of uniting the realm through marriage. And somehow your heir ended up betrothed to Hosters first born daughter. Your second son was sent off to the Eyrie, to House Arryn. As was Robert, when he should have been brought back to take up his mantle as the Lord of the Stormlands. Yet he didn’t. Tywin had a daughter born the same year as Lyanna, yet Lyanna was kept hidden away from all but Lord Robert. Were you planning to make Lyanna the Queen through Robert? Was there a coup at play?” He asked.

  He watched as both Ned and his good-father shifted uncomfortably. But to Lord Rickards credit, he did not back down from the directness of his questions. 

  “I had my motivations for considering Lyanna for Robert, though it had nothing to do with making her a Queen. I simply wanted to create a connection between the North and the Southern Kingdoms. But the truth was, my wife knew from early on that Lya had a destiny, and she made me promise that she would get the chance to experience it. I believed that was through the fulfillment of the pact, yet you were already married and your brother is but five name days. It is no secret that Robert's grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen and Robert's offer seemed the best way to see the pact fulfilled, at least insofar as Lyanna was concerned. Of course Hoster and Jon have written of their support for the match, but I had agreed to investigate Robert's character after Lyanna protested at the offer Robert made. As to the rest, after Walys confession it makes sense that he would have been in communication with the right people and had been subtly guiding the path towards rebellion. Especially if what you say about your father is true.” Lord Rickard answered. 

  He sat there, watching his good-father and good-brother and he could not detect any deceit from either of them. If Lord Arryn or Robert had been planning a coup Eddard was unaware, and it is arguable that his father was a pawn in a greater scheme to overthrow his family’s dynasty. Lord Hoster stood to gain much in this exchange, but when his father had decided to name Jaime to his Kingsguard, he had also thrown a wrench into Hoster and Tywin’s plans to marry Ser Jaime and Hoster’s second daughter Lysa to one another.

  After a few moments, he finally spoke. “Our situation is precarious, with my father sending out ravens in the coming weeks announcing his plans to have Lyanna and I wed in the great Sept, he’s also planning to announce her as the Mystery Knight from the tourney at Harrenhal. Somehow, he’s figured out that she was responsible. I wouldn’t put it past Varys, but the chances are, he could very well have gotten the idea from her. With him not sending men to bring her to the Red Keep, it only further solidifies the idea that Lyanna may have told him the truth, or at the very least, eluded to it.” 

  “What damage can Aerys knowledge do if he is not calling for her to face a trial?” Ned asked, his Lord Father agreeing. 

  “You were there the night at the feast, you heard Robert egging my father's ire on. What you don't know is that my father had nearly forgotten the situation and likely would have, had Robert not made a show of calling him a craven and a coward. Declaring to unhorse and unmask the mystery challenger. It was then that my father declared the mystery knight a traitor, and decided that the mystery knight meant him harm.” He reminded Ned. 

  “Aye, I remember. I was furious at Robert, though how could he have known that Lyanna was the mystery knight?” Ned asked, clearly confused. 

  “I don’t think that he did, at least not right away, but it’s quite possible that he saw myself and Lyanna leaving the Godswood beside Howland, Oswell and Arthur after the joust. As he had not been there during the Joust, but Ashara confessed to me later on that she saw him and Cersei leaving the feast in each others company the night before. The next time he was spotted was just outside the Godswood by Arthur after she and I were on our way back to your camp.” He paused. 

  Robert was a thorn in his side but he was his cousin, he had no issue with the lustful man other than his misplaced interest in Lyanna. He would not slander his name, even if speaking the truth couldn’t truly be considered slander.

  “The reason I’m worried is not because of what my father will do, ironically. I worry because of what people like Robert will perceive that my father will do. No one knows that Lyanna possesses a gift that helps to temper his condition. In Robert’s mind, Lyanna is a victim in all of this, and he will see the confirmation of her as the mystery knight as Lyanna being forced to marry me, and of course I’ll be painted as the monster that stole away his innocent maiden.” He finally finished. 

  Lord Rickard sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers under his chin, thinking. Rhaegar knew that he had lain much at his good-father's feet, but he also knew that he couldn’t simply pretend these issues didn’t exist. 

  “This Robert is becoming more trouble than he’s worth.” Rickard grumbled. “Do you have any suggestions on how we can sort this out without bloodshed?” 

  This time it was Eddard who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, drawing both of their attention.

   “What are you not saying?” Rickard asked him, suspiciously.

  Ned flushed, but he answered his father's question without hesitation. “Lyanna wants to be the one to speak with Robert. She believes that only she will be able to set him straight.”

  Rhaegar wanted to protest, but he couldn’t. He promised her that he would not treat her as some fragile thing, in need of protection. Forbidding her the chance to speak for herself would be the equivalent of placing her in a gilded cage where she could sing only practiced tunes and look pretty for the realm, but do nothing of import and live an unfulfilled existence.

  “Absolutely not,” his good- father decided at once. “Lyanna has no reason to speak with Robert, nor does she owe him an explanation.”

  “I did not mean to imply—, of course she doesn’t owe him anything, but you will have to forgive me, Father. But Lyanna doesn’t care for your permission or mine on the matter.” Ned glanced over toward him apologetically before he continued. “I doubt that she would care for yours either, my Prince.” 

  “Please, Rhaegar is fine, and you’re correct. I have no choice in this. Lyanna will find a way to have this conversation with Robert, no matter what any of us feel about it. The best we can do is create a place where she will be able to do so, without fear or worry that Robert will be able to act out. I have actually thought about this, and I think Lyanna will want to be at the next council meeting.” He replied. 

  His good-father looked distressed at the thought. Of course he had every reason to be. Afterall, up until a sennight ago, Lyanna was simply the only daughter of the Lord Paramount, and Princess consort to the Crowned Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. But now, she was a Queen of Winter in her own right, and that had to be a hard pill to swallow for anyone, let alone a father. 

  “What would that accomplish?” Lord Rickard questioned.

  “That is not for me to say, but Lyanna has made her intentions known, and it is not within my power to limit her, or forbid her from doing something which she feels is her duty.” He admitted. 

  After a few moments Lord Rickard finally accepted and Rhaegar could see the fight drain out of him. He had apparently said the right thing. The three of them stayed there, speaking for quite a few hours longer, about the council meeting that they would hold at Moat Cailin. This location would allow for Jon Arryn and Hoster to meet up without too much commotion. Especially if they were able to hold the meeting around the same time Brandon and the Lady Catelyn would be married. 

  He had wanted to talk with Lord Rickard about the Long Night, about the Halls of Gods and Kings that Lyanna and himself had visited the night they had consummated their vows, but he considered how abrupt that kind of information could seem. So instead, he had made an offer to his good father to help purchase more Myrish glass to extend the Glass Gardens, this way they could produce more food and grain that could benefit them during the coming winters. There was much work to be done in this regard, but Rickard had been correct when he had pointed out how neglected the North was in comparison to the other six kingdoms. What was more, this kingdom would be the first to face whatever it is that waits beyond the wall and he had a duty to his wife, and their people to make sure that when the darkness came, they would be supported, and prepared. 

  He had taken his meal in the company of Rickard and Eddard, so he was aware that the hour was growing late. By the time they finally departed company, the moon was midway through the sky. It had started snowing at some point during the day and by the time he had crossed the yard, his black cloak was almost completely covered in white. 

  The air was cool and crisp, and whenever he would take in a breath, there was a hint of sweetness that lingered on his tongue. It reminded him of Lyanna, and suddenly he found himself wanting nothing more than to see her face. 

  He took the stairs up to the top floor of the First Keep two at a time, hoping that she would still be awake when he entered. 

  Lyanna, as it turned out, had not been sleeping. He found her in the main chamber laid out on a settee with her giant Direwolf laid out beside her, practically laying on top of her. He wanted to chuckle at the sight, but the two of them looked as if they were made to sit there in such a manner. 

  She looked up at him, when she heard him enter and awarded him with one of her beautiful smiles. “Won’t you come sit beside me?” She called out, beckoning him over.  

  He moved without thought, like a moth to a flame. The Direwolf; Shadow moved from her place beside Lyanna and pushed herself between her two pack mates who were laying on the floor just in front of Lyanna. Once he was within reach, he leaned down and sealed their lips together, taking strength from her love. 

  “I’ve missed you.” He confessed, unashamed at how much he relied on her to give him strength. She looked as if she had been waiting for him and suddenly he felt neglectful of her. “Have you been waiting on me long? He asked her, feeling a frown form without even trying. 

  She smiled, not unkindly, but he could tell she thought him ridiculous for worrying. Instead she told him of her evening, and how she had been in the company of the Old Woman, Ashara, her little brother Benjen and his uncle Aemon, up until a few hours ago. 

  He made sure to ask whether she had eaten, which he found himself constantly doing these days, and to his delight she had. She made no move to explain what had brought his great uncle to see her, so he asked. 

  Like always, she managed to dodge around the matter for a few minutes, clearly an attempt to drive him mad with curiosity, but then she sat up and crawled into his lap and he almost forgot the reason he had been questioning her in the first place. 

  Lyanna was dressed in a long white sleeping gown, her hair was worn loose, and it hung in waves down her back and covered her shoulders and the tops of her thighs. She was the most lovely thing he’d seen all day, not that anything could compare in his humble opinion. Her eyes were alight with excitement, as if she had some huge secret that she was dying to share with him. And just when he was about to ask her what was going on, she took the hand that had been cupping her cheek and she placed it on her lower stomach.

  “It’s official…” she announced softly, a shy smile forming. 

  His eyes went wide, _had he heard her correctly? Is it true?_ He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t. Instead he pulled her back toward him and he crushed her mouth to his in a searing kiss, one that conveyed his happiness, his gratitude, and most of all, his love. They were going to have a family, twins that would mark the springtime, the same way that their comets are meant to slay the season and herald the coming of a King. Their promised Prince and Princess. Their song of ice and fire...

* * *

**The Knowing One**

* * *

  The day following Walys confession, winter had arrived and with it, his nephew and good-niece whom seemed to be in a joyous mood. He could see what Rhaegar saw in his Lyanna, she had a special type of beauty that one doesn’t see everyday nor lifetime for that matter. For those without the gift to _see_ she might be considered plain, but to those who do have the gift, you could see the moonlight shining through her aura. So brightly that it lit her up from the inside out. Where Targaryen’s are born with hair of silver Lyanna was the moon personified. And from what he knew of the boy that would one day be their son, he will be the best parts of both Ice and fire.

  Lyanna was the first to speak. “Maester Aemon, I wanted to thank you for bringing my gift all the way from the Wall personally, and I would also like to thank you for your help with this situation with Walys. I know that what we learned yesterday must have been painful, so I wanted to come myself and express my gratitude for everything you did as well as endured, so that we could learn the truth.”

  “I would much rather be informed and aware than ignorant and content, truths are seldomly sweet my dear, but I do not regret knowing them. I am glad that you both have come, there are matters that I was hoping to speak with the both of you about.” He returned.

  “Please, uncle, what can we do for you?” Rhaegar asked, concerned.

  There truly was nothing cruel about the boy, he would have been a great Aemon, but he supposed it was best that he would be the first Rhaegar to ever sit the Iron Throne, just like Aegon was the first, and Jaehaerys as well. 

  “Now that you know what is to happen with Walys, what will you do about another maester for Winterfell? While I do not wish to overstep, the Citadel will need to know about his trial and execution or at least some version of it that isn’t entirely a lie. And they will want to send another maester to replace him.” He began.

  “Do you have any suggestions?” Lyanna asked, clearly not sure about having another maester in the North from the Citadel. He could understand, but he did have some suggestions as it turned out.

  “Well, I do have a few suggestions but first, might I ask what you thought of Marwyn?” He had thought the man would have journeyed with them but apparently not.

  Rhaegar glanced at Lyanna and then back at himself. “I personally have no complaints of Archmaester Marwyn, however Lyanna has a natural distrust of the institution as a whole as you can understand, though she seems to get along with you quite well. However with the gates and the situation with Walys, we weren’t sure if bringing him along was for the best.”

  “He has done nothing to make me mistrust him, honestly.” Lyanna replied when Rhaegar was done.

  Aemon nodded, this was good. “I think that this is someone that you will find, who is not willing to sell your secrets back to the Citadel. He is one of the only men left at the Citadel who has forged every link, including the link for the Higher Mysteries. They want to keep these things hidden, but his mastery in them make him as much a threat to the Citadel as we are. But they could not deny a request for him to join the Household until such a time that you are able to sort the situation with the crown and the Citadel.” 

  “You said that you have a few?” Lyanna asked, still not completely won over. 

  “I did, the other is a man named Luwin though I believe that he is currently in Riverrun. Perhaps he could travel here after the Lady Catelyn and Lord Brandon are married.” He offered, giving them a moment to think about things.

  “I have no idea when Brandon and the Lady Catelyn will marry but I suspect that will be after the turn of the year now that winter is here. Winterfell cannot go without a maester that long without making waves.” Lyanna replied, though she seemed as if she was more, thinking out loud than anything else.

  “I have one more suggestion.” He started, drawing Lyanna back into the conversation. “I was hoping that either your Lord Father or the Crowned Prince could petition the Night's Watch to have me released from my vows. There are many men on the wall who have aided me over the years who are capable enough to care for the needs of the Watch, and the Citadel can always send a new maester who does not have to swear vows in order to serve, as I had chosen to.”

  A wide smile broke across his nephews face, he could not help but smile in return. “Do you mean it? I would happily write to the Lord Commander to request that you are released. You can serve as Grand Maester if you truly want to, I know my father would even sign off on this request.” Rhaegar responded excitedly. 

  “For now, my boy, I think it wise that I would stay and serve here in Winterfell if it would please you. Until such a time as your throne is secure I dare not risk traveling that far South. Fire consumes, dear one, but Ice preserves. I am an old man and I fear that it has been the magic at the Wall that has kept me alive this long. Yet that same magic is woven deeply into the foundations of this castle, and the magic within our blood can feel it. However, if you would allow, I would still suggest Marwyn come North to join me here, he can work beside me if that would put you both at ease.” Aemon reasoned. 

  Though he could see the disappointment on Rhaegar’s face, he could also see the understanding. After a moment, his nephew nodded. “You’re right, of course, and I will still write to the Lord Commander and make my request. I will also make a large donation of food and supplies and in time, more men.” 

  “Aye, as will my father. And Lord Commander Qorgyle knows that my Lord Father has long been a friend to the watch.” Lyanna added, reaching out to grasp his hand. “I’m so glad that you will consider staying here with us. And I know that the release of one's vows are not typically done, but they aren’t unheard of. You’ve given them more years than most recruits.” She added, her tone hopeful. 

  He patted the back of her hand and smiled kindly at her words. But he had one more matter that he wanted to address, so before he forgot he spoke up. 

  “There is one more thing, if I may?” Aemon asked, waiting for them to acknowledge him. “Now that you have located the Ice Gate and have established a link between the North, Riverlands and Dragonstone, I advise you not to tarry longer than you need here in the North. Right now is the perfect opportunity to go and find your Dragon. Do it while people believe that you are too far away to make a move. A dragon alone in the world is a terrible thing. Silverwing needs her rider just as much as you will need her now that you have seven dragon eggs to care for.” 

* * *

  **The Alpha Wolf**

* * *

  News comes in threes as it would seem, with the announcement of Winter two days prior, also brought word from the Red Keep from none other than the King himself. Two scrolls were sent, one for himself, the other for Prince Rhaegar. 

  He was standing in his solar when Lyanna arrived, intent on talking to him about the gate and security measures now that it had been discovered. So he sat there listening to her as she went over the best possible solutions to the issue. 

  That they had found the gate was not an issue per sé, but concealing the gate, and keeping people from knowing the comings and goings of his daughter and good-son would be difficult. Of course there were other matters that needed his attention in regards to the location of the gate. Such as, how Vermax managed to get down there, and Lyanna’s insistence that there was a coverup down in the lower levels. And that there were fully empty tombs where the oldest of the King's of Winter had been lain to rest. 

  The fact was, no one had been down to the lower level in generations for all he knew, aside from the occasional trip to clear away rats and replace the torches. After the collapse, it became general knowledge that the lower level was marked unsafe. Leave it to his daughter to question everything and go in search of things no one would have ever guessed were actually there. 

  Still, there was still time to work out the specifics, but for now, he planned to re-staff that segment of the castle, and secure the Godswood on all sides with new locks and gates. The staff for that segment of the castle would need to be further vetted, and he was considering placing Old Nan with Lyanna more permanently, at least while she was in residence.  

  After Lyanna left, he took care to draft a letter to Lord Commander Qorgyle with regard to maester Aemon. The fact that it had been Aemon to suggest remaining in Winterfell was shocking enough, but when Lyanna and Rhaegar had informed him that he wished to stay in Winterfell rather than returning South to Dragonstone or the Red Keep he couldn’t believe his ears. 

  Though the setting aside of ones vows was seldom done, the practice was not without precedent, especially in terms of age and fitness to serve as well as extenuating circumstances involving inheritance and succession. It only helped Aemon’s case that he was nearing ninety name days and was losing his sight. No matter how invaluable his knowledge was, that would do very little in terms of beating back Wildling raiders. 

  The rest of his afternoon was spent drafting letters, inviting all the Lords of the realm to join him and his family in the union of his daughter Lyanna to the Crowned Prince. He was sure that for many of them, this would be confusing, but most would come if they could manage, of that he was sure. He had many matters to take care of, but for now, he would take things one step at a time. 

   The following day saw his good-son back to his solar, in the company of his son Ned. Though he would have never considered it before, his quiet pup shared many of the same character traits that his good-son possessed. And the more he watched the two of them, the clearer it became to him, why Ashara and Rhaegar matched his Ned and Lyanna so well. The four of them were a balance of sorts, and the thought made him smile. 

  He thought briefly of the conversation that he’d had with his she-pup the previous day, and what it might be like to add a woman’s touch back to the castle once Lyanna was forced to return to King's Landing. He felt sick at the idea of her traveling so far away now that he had her home. 

  He was half considering returning to the Red Keep with Lyanna once they went south, so that he could get a proper measure of the King now that he was no longer the man who he had fought beside in the war of the Ninepenny Kings. This way, he could see just how much of an effect his daughters magic truly had on him. Especially with Rhaegar’s request to have Lord Manderly’s Septon travel North to attend the wedding. 

  While he could respect his good-son’s position and even understand why he had chosen to make this request, Rickard could not deny the urge he felt to hunt down and rend the flesh of the High Septon and the rest of that damn faith of sycophants in wolf form. They had bent the knee to the Dragons, but not the Faith of the Seven. And they had done so because they understood that the true enemy would stand no chance against a united Westeros. But Rickard was coming to understand that Westeros would never truly be United as long as the Seven sat supreme in that glass monstrosity that Baelor the Blessed had constructed to appease the vanity of the Starry Sept. 

  Mayhap this was a matter Lyanna could help with once they returned to King's Landing. He would have to mention it the next time they spoke. 

  He was also still trying to work out when Walys execution would take place. Though there was a small part of him who was considering saving it for the day of Lyanna and Rhaegar’s renewal ceremony. 

  To most the ceremony would seem barbaric, but everything of importance that happens in the North typically begins with an offering to the Nameless Ones. Even the construction of this castle began with a blood sacrifice in the Godswood. And every time he uses Ice to take a man's head, he offers back the blood to the reflection pool.

  Walys had not only betrayed his oath, he was a traitor to the North and his people could have suffered greatly had his schemes come to fruition. There would be no greater sacrifice than Walys, and no better way to appease the Gods into blessing his daughters union. 

* * *

**The She-Wolf**

* * *

    It was a little more than a sennight since they had arrived to Winterfell when she and Ashara were seated inside her chambers going over their day. Old Nan had come to them, wanting to help them bathe and prepare for sleeping, the way she had every night since they rode through the gates. Ashara had taken quickly to Old Nans fussing, and for some reason this pleased her immeasurably. 

  Lyanna hadn’t been sure what to expect from her good-sister once they arrived in the North, with things being so different here than they were down south. But Ashara had an inner strength to her that Lyanna could not help but to admire. She never complained about the chill in the air, nor the grey walls and snow covered earth, nor had she found any fault in the customs and mannerisms of the Northmen and women that she had been introduced to. A part of her wondered if Catelyn would adapt so easily here in the North. For Brandon’s sake, she hoped that this was the case. Ashara had even gone so far as to read up on northern customs and traditions. Wanting to know as much about the history and lore of the North and House Stark as she possibly could, which never went unnoticed by the Household or her Lord Father. And on occasion, she would even catch him smiling at the two of them while they carried on about their days.

  This night was no different from the last as Nan helped them both disrobe and climb into their copper tubs. Her chamber was large enough and both Rhaegar and Ned were preoccupied with something that her father had been working on, so Ashara had agreed to keep her company while they were busy. So, rather than send Nan back and forth between bathing chambers, Nan had bid the servants carry an extra tub up to her rooms, and then she made them hang a sheet between both tubs for modesty. 

  She had known that Old Nan had been keeping a close eye on her since she arrived, yet she had yet to speak of her suspicions. Tonight though, would be the exception as it turned out. She and Ashara were just starting to rise from their tubs when her old nursemaid finally broached the topic. 

  “How many moons since you last bled?” She asked with little to no preamble, leaving both her and Ashara stunned by the abruptness of her question. They both looked to each other, trying to ascertain which of them she had been referring to but she noticed that Ashara’s face became flushed and suddenly she realized, she was not the only one keeping secrets. 

  As if they were of a single mind, they both answered simultaneously. “Two, and a sennight.” 

  Old Nan clucked her tongue at them and bid them both sit. When she was satisfied, she called forth another handmaiden and they both set about preparing them for sleep. Old Nan observed her figure, sweeping a hand over her breast and cupping one to feel the weight, and then she let her hands fall to Lyanna’s waist where she brushed over her hips and then her middle section, before turning to Ashara. “You were both wed the same night?” She questioned. 

  Again they both answered in unison, nodding their heads in confirmation. “You will put these gowns on and I shall call for maester Aemon to come and examine you both.” She announced, as if she had the power to command either of them. Perhaps she did, at least insofar as Lyanna was concerned. Old Nan had ruled her everyday life for as long as she could remember, she could see no reason for things to change now, titles be damned. When Nan spoke, you were expected to listen, and so they did. 

  While Nan tended to their hair, the handmaiden was sent to call on maester Aemon, and by the time they were both dressed and ready to exit the bathing chamber, her handmaiden was already back, assuring Old Nan that the maester would be joining them shortly.

  She was all nerves as she sat there in the main room of her chambers waiting for Aemon to arrive, and beside her Ashara was no less of a mess. How had neither of them known that the other was likely going through the same changes?  How had Ned not picked up on Ashara’s changes? She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of scratching on the outer door, so she stood from her chair and crossed the room to open it.

  Sitting on the other side, she found all three wolves waiting patiently to be allowed in, so Lyanna smiled at them and opened the way up wide enough for them to gain entrance. She was just preparing to close the door when she heard someone slowly climbing the steps so she waited, knowing that it was Aemon and likely Benjen coming to do Nan’s bidding. 

  She felt terrible, making him come from across the castle yard just to examine herself and Ashara, especially when they could have just as easily made their way over to him on the morrow, but there was no stopping Old Nan once she had set her mind to something. Nor could Aemon be convinced to allow them to journey to him when he still had, “Two perfectly capable legs in need of movement… you lose that which you fail to use, my dear.” He had told her more than once since the day they had been introduced. 

  As she stood there, listening to the sound of four sets of feet ascend the stairs, she could feel the cool evening breeze flow over her exposed shoulders and ruffle her still damp hair. She could taste the sweetness of the winter winds and a part of her wanted to make her way to the Godswood and sit under the canopy of the heart tree, basking in the luminescence of the moon. Perhaps she would have time for such later on, once Rhaegar had returned. 

  Aemon and Ben crested the top of the stairs the moment she turned from the open window and she invited them both inside, pulling her cloak about herself a little tighter than before and then she entered her chambers and escorted them both to where Ashara and Old Nan had been awaiting the three of them. 

  “Thank you for coming maester Aemon, I’m sorry to have brought you out in this cold.” She apologized.

  “Nonsense my dear, it is always an honor to be of service. Tell me, is there something that I might aid you with Princess?” The old dragon asked her. 

  She found that she was quite comfortable around him, which she hadn’t expected. After Walys, she had a natural mistrust for the whole order and the Citadel too and with good reason, as it turned out. But she did not feel that way at all in regards to her husband's uncle. And so she grabbed a chair for him and placed it near the hearth, where she knew he preferred to sit. Then she grabbed another and sat beside him. Old Nan, took it upon herself in this moment to fill him in on the reason she had sent for him. And when she had finished relaying her observations and findings, Aemon simply smiled knowingly. 

  “Ah, I see. Yes, well I have expected as much since the day you both arrive. But it was not my place to announce your business without first being asked.” Said Aemon. 

  He turned to Benjen. “My Lord, would you mind giving me the room, I shall need to examine Her Grace and Lady Ashara.”

  Benjen excused himself almost immediately, and Old Nan followed behind him, leaving the three of them and her three Direwolves alone. 

  “Would you both care to have me examine you?” He asked. 

  How could she say no? If she had a means of knowing why wouldn’t she want to? She glanced at Ashara who was looking to her as well. And together they nodded their agreement.

  “Good, I would like to ask a few questions if I may?” Again they nodded.

  “The last time you had your moons blood?” He began.

  “Before the Tournament at Harrenhal. The beginning of the seventh moon.” She replied without hesitation.

  “The same for me. Before the tournament.” Ashara added.

  “And have either of you noticed any changes? Increase or decrease in appetite? Nausea, fatigue, or emotional behaviors? Swelling in your abdomen or sensitivity and tenderness around your breasts?” 

  She swallowed, suddenly nervous. It was as if Ashara had been able to sense her sudden fear because she spoke first. “I’ve been less hungry of late, and certain smells have a way of turning my stomach. I have been more tired of late and—” she blushed. “And I crave the intimacy that my husband and I share more and more each day. Aside from that, my breasts have been more sensitive, though I can’t confirm whether or not they are larger.”

  Aemon nodded, making notes on a piece of parchment that he had brought with him. Then he turned his attention upon her. “I, well yes—” Lyanna stammered. Gods she needed to get a grip on herself. Once again she took a deep breath, calming herself and then she met the pale violet of his eyes once more. “My appetite is different, and I find myself napping every afternoon. My breasts have been tender for almost five weeks, the only nausea was while we were sailing from King's Landing to Dragonstone and from Dragonstone to White Harbor. Other than that, being on ground agrees with me. I suppose if you asked Rhaegar he would say that I have been normal, but if you asked Ned he would tell you that I’ve been an emotional wreck these past few weeks. But I would be remiss if I did not tell you that we’ve suspected for nearly a moon that I’m with child. Longer if that’s even possible.” 

  “Would you consent to an examination?” He asked them and they both accepted. 

  Lyanna had insisted that Ashara go first, as she was already fairly certain that her fate was sealed, and when Ashara finally emerged from her chambers, her dazzling smile was all the confirmation that had been needed. She was to be an aunt! And she wanted to rejoice at the news, but before she could begin Old Nan was ushering her back inside her chambers so that she would settle this matter once and for all.

  Three hours later Lyanna found herself laying on one of the settees with her furs wrapped around her. Shadow had somehow managed to climb up with her and currently she was resting with her head nestled in her lap while the two boys, Blizzard and Storm, as Ned had named him were curled up on the floor below. She had been here ever since Ashara, Ben, Old Nan and maester Aemon had left. Waiting for Rhaegar to return from his business with her father so that she could give him the news. 

   When he entered, a light dusting of snow covered his cape, and there were still a few snowflakes that had caught in his hair that had not managed to melt just yet. It took him no time at all to notice her, nestled beneath a layer of furs and three enormous Direwolves who by right should not even fit inside the chambers. Yet here the four of them were, and she would not have it any other way. This was her pack, and the pack survives when they stick together. Nothing else mattered. 

   Sensing Rhaegar’s presence, Shadow slid off the settee and pushed her way onto the floor in between her two beta’s earning a chuckle from her. It was uncanny how much Shadow and she were alike. She looked up, seeking the indigo gaze of the man who had given her everything she never knew she wanted and found him staring down into the silver and steel grey of her own. 

  “Won’t you come sit beside me?” She invited him over and tucked her legs up to make space for him to get comfortable.

  He leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss, the kind she had come to both love and crave from him every time they had been parted for any determined length of time. 

  “I’ve missed you,” he finally said. Looking around, taking in the state of their chambers. “Have you been out here waiting on me for very long?” He asked, frowning. 

  She wanted to laugh but she managed to stop herself. She shook her head. “Nay, not by myself. Ashara, Old Nan, Benjen and Aemon left a few hours ago and I didn’t want to go to bed. So, seeing as how I have had company, the three of us thought that we should wait for you out here.”

  He finally managed to situate himself beside her and she turned her body so that she could look at him eye to eye. A strand of hair fell in her eyes and like a magnet he swept it back behind her ear and cupped her face. “Have you eaten this evening?” He asked, typical of him; always fussing over her. 

  She nodded, “You needn’t worry, Old Nan sat here and watched both myself and Ashara eat.” She promised, raising her hand to merge with his. 

  “You said Aemon was here, was he looking for me?”

  She smiled, it was probably cruel keeping this from him for this long, but if he kept on speaking she would not interrupt, no matter how quickly her heart was beating in her chest. 

  “I’ve no doubt he would have been glad to see you but the truth is, he was here to see both myself and Ashara. Old Nan sent Jenni to bring him here.” She told him delicately, allowing him the time he needed to process her words. 

  “Is something the matter with Ashara?” He asked, concerned. 

  “Nothing is wrong with Ashara,” she smiled, amused at how long this was taking. She pulled the hand that she was holding down and pushed herself up so that she was sitting in his lap. Her hair was loose, hanging around her shoulders in a long waterfall, covering her back and upper thighs when she was sitting. Once she was comfortable she slid his other hand over her womb and looked up to meet his stare.

  “It’s official,” she said with a smile. 

  His eyes went wide and in an instant Rhaegar was crushing his lips against hers, kissing her as if their lives depended upon it. She could only reciprocate his enthusiasm eagerly. In moments like this, it didn’t matter that his father was mad, or that they hadn’t married in front of the realm. It only mattered that he loved her and she him, and that somehow, the Gods had found a way to bring them together and bind their love. It only mattered that proof of that love and destiny was growing within her womb. That two children, possessing the blood of both ice and fire, have a chance because they had managed to find one another in this lifetime.

  She pulled back, Valyrian steel seeking indigo, but what she found was obsidian looking back at her. Her husband possessed a hungry look that she had never seen on him before. And there was a part of her that was thrilled by it, if she were being honest.

  “Does this mean that you will actually allow me to caress your stomach and talk to our babes? Let me read to them in Valyrian and fuss over you from time to time?” He asked. 

  She snorted at how ridiculous he sounded. “I have a few conditions…” she waited. 

  “Name it.” He said quickly, too quickly and she smiled in spite of herself.

  “You will still allow me to ride, and train with Arthur, at least until I begin showing. Dothraki women ride astride until they go into labor, and spear wives don’t let a swollen womb stop them from protecting their people. I do not wish to be limited just because I may carry your royal male heir.” She bargained.

  She could see by the look on his face that she had asked much of him, but this was important to her. 

  “Can we compromise on some of those conditions?” He asked reluctantly. 

  This was a start, she supposed. She nodded, “I'll hear your counter offer.” 

   “I will still allow you to ride while we are in the North and I can guarantee your safety. I will not stop you from riding astride anywhere save for the Capital and only because of my Father, and only until he is no longer a threat. As for your training, the same conditions apply, for the same term limits. And neither have anything to do with the fact that you carry our babes within you. But I ask that you not over exert yourself. And that you remain mindful, reasonable and conscientious of the babes that you carry. They do not belong to you and I alone. They belong to the realm, to all of humanity and without them we could all be lost.” He reasoned. 

  She wanted to protest that he should not place such a burden upon their shoulders before they are even born, but she had seen them, all of them fighting with fire and blood and winter and magic, with wolves and dragons and all manner of sorcery, in a desperate attempt to save humanity from what's waiting beyond the Wall to come and devour them all. So instead she nodded, not wanting to fight with him over something she knew to be true. 

  A smile lit up his face and he pulled her back to him, fusing their lips together once more, lifting them so that he was able to carry her from the main chamber to their rooms. The wolves moved without needing to be told, repositioning themselves so that they could see every door and window where someone could enter. When he got them inside their bedchamber, he kicked the door closed behind him and moved to place her on the feather bed. 

  Before she knew what was happening, his lips were parted from hers and he was kneeling on the floor in front of her, and she could hear the sound of his voice, along with the brush of his lips against her abdomen, murmuring words in High Valyrian that she could only assume were words of love and adoration. 

  Rhaegar’s hands ran down her thighs, his elegant fingers pressing into her, his beautiful nails scraping deliciously at her flesh. She could do naught but lay there and watch as he came to terms with the possessive beast that she had somehow unknowingly unleashed the moment that she confirmed that she was pregnant. 

  “Take this off.” He ground through clenched teeth.

  A shiver ran down her spine and she complied on instinct alone. Reaching for the shoulder straps of her night dress and pulling at them so that they pooled around her waist, leaving her breasts and stomach bare to him. 

  He rocked back on his heels, surveying her every curve and he nearly hissed when she lifted her bottom from the bed, high enough so that he could pull away the rest of her gown, exposing the rest of her body to him. She knew where his mind was, so she let her legs fall open, allowing him to see all of her through the bright moonlight that streamed through the windows in their bedchamber. 

  Unlike most nights with her husband, whenever he had her at his mercy this way, he made no move to claim her, to mark her and make her sing his name. Instead he ran his hands lovingly, almost reverently up and down her body, marking  her new curves, memorizing every new line. There was something erotic about the way he watched her and she felt the signature stirring of her arousal starting to wash over her.

  Rhaegar inhaled deeply, his indigo eyes blown to pure black, a fire burned beneath them, wanting to consume him, waiting for the chance and she knew he only needed the correct push and then he would do it,  he would wake the dragon… he was so close.

  His hands moved up her torso, a thumb ghosted over her sensitive peaks, eliciting a breathy moan from her. One that she had tried desperately to hold inside. Somehow she was fully exposed to him, while he remained dressed and she thought this unfair but before she could give voice to her displeasure, his lips found the still flat expanse of her stomach and he was marking her lovingly. 

  She could do nothing but watch as he familiarized himself with her nonexistent baby bump, murmuring sweet nothings between each brush of his lips. His hands never left her, trailing a path down her ribs and settling on her ample hips. He was worshiping her, and while she would never get used to this kind of behavior, she found that she could not ask him to stop either. He treasured her, and no matter how strangely it felt to be seen and desired by this man, she found that she craved his brand of attention more and more. 

  “Rhaegar—,” she whined. Moving her hands to twine through his silver locks, forcing his eyes to seek hers. “Take off your clothing, and join me.”

  Her husband smiled devilishly,  but stood anyway and began to undress. She scooted further up the bed, making room for him to join her, all the while he watched her hungrily. When he finally came back to her, he kissed her tenderly before he moved back down her body, caressing every curve of her body with his full lips and clever tongue. 

  Lyanna was not unfamiliar with the way that he made love to her, always wanting to bring her pleasure while worshiping over her. But tonight she wanted to do the same for him. She threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged, gaining his attention. When he had his eyes locked on hers once more, she moved so that she was on her knees and her cunt was right in the line of his sight. Before he could reach for her, however, she was pushing him back so that he was now the one at her mercy. 

  Rhaegar was beautiful, every line, every muscle looked as if it had been carved by the Gods themselves, and his eyes were still two smouldering pools of obsidian. Her own eyes traveled down his frame, stopping at his long thick cock and she licked her lips involuntarily. Without even knowing it, she had decided on her course of action. 

  Reaching out she pulled him back to her and climbed into his lap bringing her hands up to grip his silver curls, she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. Not really knowing where this sudden desire to consume him came from, she let down her defenses and surrendered to it. 

  The two of them came together in a sudden clash of teeth and nails and skin. Rhaegar, edged on by the sudden sharpness of her teeth on his skin and her nails on his back and in his hair. Every time he would moan her name like a prayer, she would rock into him harder. 

  She needed more, so she pushed him onto his back and she reached in between them and gripped him the way she had all those many nights ago when they were still at Harrenhal, before he had taken her maidenhead. Back when the most depraved thing she had done with him was allow him to feast on her before they found their sleep. She remembered the taste of his seed on the tips of her fingers and suddenly she knew what she wanted. 

  Rhaegar must have realized at the same time as her what she intended because as she slid down his body, placing wet kisses along his abdomen, she felt his body tense. 

  “Lyanna— what are you-,” he tried to protest, but it was too late. Before he could finish his sentence she swiped her tongue over the top of his already weeping cock, slowly but firmly and then she closed her mouth around his tip and pulled his length into her mouth. 

  She felt him shudder at the contact and she secretly smiled at his response. He taste of salt, but not unpleasantly so, there was always the lingering taste of smoke as well, something that was classically Rhaegar. 

  His hands came up and fisted her hair, and she relished in how he whimpered every time her tongue rubbed over the length of his cock. She had never before taken him into her mouth, but now that she was here, and he was at her mercy, she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. 

  “Oh, fuck—!” He hissed when she let her teeth scrape over his extra sensitive tip. 

  She could feel herself becoming aroused at the sight of him coming undone under her, so she picked up her pace, using one hand to stroke his cock in time with her mouth. She glanced up at him, wanting to see him when he released his seed into her mouth. 

  His eyes were heavily lidded, but he never once looked away, and when he saw her staring back into his eyes, Lyanna felt his grip tighten in her hair, a silent plea for more. 

  She let go of his length with a loud pop, leaving a trail of spit from his tip to her lips, and his eyes went wide. She felt a chill run over her, as every filthy thought she had ever had ran through her mind all at once. 

  “Do you like that?” She asked him seductively, running her tongue over the length of him before pulling his stones into her mouth. 

  Rhaegar hissed at the contact, but she was rewarded when he whimpered for her not to stop. So she went back to her task, with newly found inspiration and pulled him deep into her mouth, gliding up and down his shaft until the head of his cock kissed the back of her throat and she held him there feeling him twitch underneath her. 

  She glanced up at him once more and nodded, knowing that he wanted her to stay where she was. So she swallowed back the juices that were spilling from her mouth and relaxed her throat so that Rhaegar could move, and when he was ready he began to fuck her mouth with abandon. 

  With every thrust, Rhaegar’s cock would slide further down her throat and she could feel him growing more and more, filling her in a way that she hadn’t known was possible. His stones were heavy, and she could feel them becoming tight, and she knew that he would be coming soon so she slid her palm down his length and rubbed gently on them to add more stimulation. 

  She felt her own pleasure unfurl within her core and Lyanna knew that she wanted him inside of her,  so she reached down and touched her own nub, wanting to release some of the tension she was feeling. The contact was electrifying and she had to stop herself from squeezing her thighs together to release the tension building within her. But Rhaegar was close, and she knew that he was burning to be inside of her. 

  “Give me your seed, don’t hold back,” Lyanna panted through each thrust of his hips. She would not be the first to break, not tonight. 

  Spurred on by her command, Rhaegar flexed his hips and thrust deeply into her throat, calling out her name as he hit the back of her throat and felt the tightness envelop him. Her gag reflex kicked in, but before it became too much, Rhaegar’s cock began to spasm and she could feel his hot seed painting her throat.

  She hollowed out her cheeks and milked him for all of his seed. When she felt his body still, she looked up and met his eyes before she swallowed, leaving her husband both shocked and aroused in the same measure.

  She had no time to plan her next move as Rhaegar pulled her to him and took her lips hungrily. “Gods, by the Seven, who taught you to do such things?” He husked in between kisses. 

  Lyanna felt a shiver of satisfaction at hearing his words. “I’ve had no lover but you, but I dare say you’ve inspired me with that lordly kiss you are so good at. I just wanted to repay the kindness.” She confessed, a small blush heating her already flushed cheeks. 

  Rhaegar nodded his approval and quickly flipped her so that she was underneath his sculpted body. On instinct, she spread her legs wide enough to accommodate his hips, locking him in place once he was pressed against her center. 

  His lips found one of her nipples and he expertly pulled it into his mouth, grazing her stiffened peaks with his teeth. She moaned wantonly at the contact and arched her back so that he could repeat his action. 

  Their coupling was always this way. Hot and erratic, needy even. So much so that hardly a night had passed since the first time they had joined in such a manner that they have not explored each other so thoroughly. She would blame it on her husband, but the truth was much less complicated than all that. She craved him just as much as he craved her. 

  Had they been two common people who had found one another, mark or no mark, she doubted that they would ever leave their bed. Even with all of their joined responsibilities, she always made time for him, as he always made time for her. She was quite possibly the most fortunate woman in the known world, having a mate who craved her as much as Rhaegar did. 

  She was brought back to the present as she felt one of Rhaegar’s elegant fingers brush over her nub, teasing her folds apart. The contact felt like electricity and she desperately wanted more. 

  “Don’t stop, touch me right there—,” Lyanna whined, too lost in his touch to care about anything other than what he was doing to her. 

  Rhaegar chuckled, hearing her beg the way she was but she couldn’t care. He had lit a fire within her and only he knew how to temper this inferno. She bucked up against his hand, making one of his long fingers slide into her core, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. 

  He growled, just watching her worry at her lip and Lyanna knew she had won this battle. Releasing her breast from his mouth, she felt him move so that he was hovering over her. One hand gripped her hip, and the other pulled away from her center and aligned his cock up to her dripping core. Without a word he slid inside her, not stopping until he was seated as deeply inside of her as he possibly could. 

  Her body hummed underneath him, as he filled her with each thrust. She was addicted to him and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. 

  “Oh, Lyanna,” Rhaegar crooned whenever he would hit that sweet spot within her, and she would answer back with a long breathy moan. Completely unable to articulate words. 

  There was no primal need to breed between them, not this time. Instead, Lyanna could see Rhaegar reaffirming that she was his, and he was hers. He, in a way, was trying to get as close to their babes as he possibly could and she could completely understand this. He had known for far longer than her that his children would do great things, while she had just recently come to terms with being a wife. For him, these babes are the fulfillment of his life’s work. 

  Reaching out, she pulled him down so that his forehead rested on top of hers and their eyes connected. His onyx returning to indigo as they locked on to her steel grey. “I love you.” She murmured finally. 

  His pace had slowed, but not his intent. Yet he still managed to reward her with a shy smile. “I love you so much Lya—,” 

  She silenced him with a kiss and rolled him so that she could sit astride him. When she found her position, she lifted herself forward and slowly eased herself back down, allowing him to feel her as she rode his cock. He slid his hands around her hips, rocking into her as she rolled her core up and down his length. One of his hands reaching around to grab the firm yet supple globes of her ass. His other was brought down to her center where he could touch her clit. 

  She was already close, but she knew he must be too, so she quickened her pace, and pulled him to a sitting position. “Oh fuck!” She whined as she felt his cock sear her womb. But Rhaegar was relentless and she knew that he needed to feel her come undone for him. 

  “Come for me Lyanna,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. He had yet to take his eyes from hers and she found that she could not look away from him either.

  Feeling bold, Lyanna arched her back and reached behind her and cupped his stones, pulling on them the way she had when she had taken him into her mouth, which made him slap her ass and push up into her with more force. She cried out, relishing in the feeling. 

  His arm reached around her back and pulled her flush against his chest and he began to thrust deeply into her, increasing the tempo and finally she felt that familiar sensation of her climax begin to build.

  “Mmmm, right there.” She moaned as Rhaegar continued to meet her demands. 

  Their bodies were a tangle of limbs, slick from their exertion but nothing else mattered in that moment other than the feeling of him as he reached places inside of her that she was still unfamiliar with. 

  Within moments she was crying out his name as she came undone around his still throbbing cock. Her pleasure washing over her in waves. She rode his cock through her climax, feeling her walls squeeze and contract against his length and pull him into her even more so, if such a thing were even possible. Soon enough Rhaegar was following her over the edge, his cock twitching within her as he spends himself inside of her. 

  Rather than separate, Rhaegar nestled her against his chest and scoots them back against the headrest of their bed. “I love you, Lyanna.” He told her once more, reaffirming what she already knew to be true. 

  “As I love you,” she replied positioning herself so that she could meet his gaze one more time. 

  His hands were still settled against her hips so she brought one of hers to meet with one of his and she slid their joined hands around so that he was touching her belly. “Our pack is growing, and I just want you to know that I have no intention to only give you two.” She promised. 

  They made love quite a few times over the course of the night, until eventually they were able to find sleep. And even though she hadn’t particularly been a fan of Rhaegar fussing over her, when he finally found his rest with his head laying atop her stomach, she didn’t have the heart to disturb him. Instead she found comfort in knowing that she would not have to do any of this alone.

* * *

**The Quiet Queen**

* * *

  Over the following week and few days that had passed since her time in the gardens with her youngest son, she had seen little of him. It was Aerys doing, she knew. It was always Aerys’ doing. She frowned, as she made her way to  the throne room where Aerys was holding court, a duty he had neglected these past days.  

  “Your Grace, we have arrived.” Ser Jaime said from behind her. Rhaella smiled tightly, nodding as he opened the door for her. 

  Joanna’s boy, he looked so much like her, and was kind, just like her too. How she missed her friend, but she did not regret sending her away, as she had said to Joanna the day she dismissed her friend from her service. She would give anything to be in the company of her Lady of Casterly Rock and her Princess of Dorne once more, but they were both long departed from this mortal realm, and all she had left of them was their children.

   She had tried her best to be like a mother to both of their children. With Elia, she had succeeded in a manner of speaking, she was the mother of her granddaughter, after all. But with Jaime… She could barely look at him without the thought of the dishonour that her own brother-husband placed upon Joanna. 

  Rhaella entered the throne room, her guard behind her. The nobles around her watched her as she moved to take her place beside Aerys throne, each sported their own look of dread or apprehension. She could not help but wonder if they felt uncomfortable because of the dragon skulls, or some other matter entirely. She herself felt more at ease with the dragon skulls around her, they reminded her of her own ancestors. Queen Rhaenys, Queen Visenya, Queen Rhaenyra. They all rode the dragons of the past. Meraxes, Vhagar, Syrax. A small part of her wished that dragons were still in the world, so that she could fly far away from here, take Viserys, mayhap even Jaime, and then burn the Keep to the ground. 

  No sooner had she found her place, had her brother-husband and son entered. Viserys took a stance next to the throne at the bottom, and Aerys climbed up the steel steps of the throne slowly. He was always wounded from the throne. Undeserving. It should be Rhaegar up on that awful seat, at least he knew how to rule, even without having ever officially done so. 

 “There is little business to discuss today but treason!” Aerys called madly, whatever sanity that had remained to him had long left him. She watched the nobles share worried glances, attempting to be discreet. Aerys was unpredictable, everyone in the realm knew so. “Bring him in!” 

 The doors opened once more, and from there, a man was dragged in. An acolyte, she realized. One of Pycelle’s helpers. He looked terrified. The two guards threw the man before Aerys. 

  “You are accused of treason, plotting to dispose of me.”

  “Your Grace, please. I beg for your mercy! I am innocent!” the acolyte called. Stupid, she thought, Aerys was never merciful. 

  “You beg for mercy? Then mercy you shall have. Rossart!” Rhaella shivered at his words, at the name. Rossart was the Grand Master from the Alchemists Guild. When he was around… That meant… That meant someone was going to die, and she was going to suffer. She felt her son’s eyes trying to meet hers. He knew what it meant too. She wished she could reach him.

  “Your Grace,” the man smirked as he passed her. The rat. He was an awful, ugly man. Rossart’s acknowledgement of her got Aerys attention. 

  “Would you care to tell my Queen what you did? It involves her as well, after all,” Aerys hissed, beckoning Rhaella forward. She felt a shiver go down her back as she stepped forward, walking slowly towards the foot of the throne, taking stance beside Viserys, she looked at the man, currently on his knees. 

  “I only tried to send a raven, my Queen, I swear it! Please! Give me mercy!” he cried. Aerys laugh echoed through the large throne room. It sent another wave of shivers down her spine, but she stood tall. She wondered how she looked to the rest of the hall. Adorned in the deep red of her house, a small silver crown on her head. Did she look as powerful as her title suggested, or the weak little girl she felt. She squeezed Viserys’ shoulders. 

  “What was the contents of the raven?” Rhaella called out. Perhaps if she reasoned with Aerys… Or angered him, he would not hurt her in the way she knew he would if she stayed silent. Perhaps he would not want to see her. She could only pray.

  “Nothing of importance! It was a letter for the Grand Maester! My Queen, please!” The Acolyte pleaded, on his knees before the entire court.

  Rhaella looked up at her brother-husband. He was looking at her intensely. Mayhap angering him was not a good plan after all. It was going to happen, whether she approved or not. 

  “Yet, I do not remember approving of such a letter, neither did the King. The Grand Maester’s only duties at the present time is tutoring the Prince Viserys, as he is the heir’s heir.” She responded, hating that she had to play this role.

  “You admit it! That you were committing treason!” Aerys roared. Rhaella stiffened as he screamed, and only then did she notice the clay pot being brought in carefully through a side door. She pulled Viserys closer to her. 

  “No, My King! Please!” The young acolyte cried. But the madness was upon Aerys already, and he would not be deterred.

  “Burn him!”  The King shrieked. 

  Rhaella could not begin to explain the horror that filled the room when the pyromancers lit the flame. She had to watch. It was awful, she covered Viserys’ eyes. She was to be punished later on anyway, judging by the mad grin on Aerys face, so shielding her son from it was the least she could do. She could not shield him from the smell of a burning man, nor from the screams echoing through the great hall. Her head was ringing, and her entire body was filled with the smell, the taste, the sound, the essence of this man. It made her sick. It made her want to die. She mourned. Mourned for the life of this man, mourned for the life of her son that was now being compromised by these displays of tortured power. 

  Finally, the screaming ceased, and through the hall all that was heard was the cackling of Aerys. The flame still burned, bright green and the smell lingered, Rhaella no longer cared… there was nothing else Aerys could do to this man that would harm him. The air reeked of burning flesh, though the scent was one that never truly left the throne room these days.  And all around her, the hall was as still as the grave. 

  Though no one could claim to be in support of Aerys methods, yet again no one made a move to stop him in his madness… not even herself. Was she just as much of a monster as her husband? Was she somehow just as guilty? Perhaps she deserved the punishment he would pay upon her in times like these, perhaps she deserved the one to come as well. 

  In her arms, Viserys was trying his hardest not to show how scared he was. “Shhhhh, little one. Fire cannot kill a dragon. All will be well.” She murmured in a hushed tone… She could not handle this for any longer than she already had. She took Viserys by the hand, and looked around before he finally found her guard. He was watching her, a plea in his eyes… No, a vow. But what it was, she could not decipher. Rhaella took a deep breath, before pulling Viserys along with her and leaving the hall. 

  “Mother, where are we going?” Viserys whimpered. 

  “Hush now, sweet boy. I’m taking you to your chambers.” She told him, attempting to reassure him that he would be fine. She wanted to embrace him tightly, and never let go but she knew that would never be possible. Not with what her brother-husband surely had planned for her.

  She settled the two of them onto one of the settees in Viserys chambers and picked up the book on Aegon's Conquest from the table. “Shall I read for us while Lilly goes to fetch your supper?” She suggested, wanting to distract her boy from all the horrors that he had just heard and saw. 

  Viserys nodded, though he still clutched tightly to her dress and she could see the tear stains that marked his little cheeks. It was almost too much to bare, seeing how broken her baby boy was, but she had to be brave, if not for herself, for Viserys. 

  She had just finished reading about Torrhen Stark and his natural born brother Brandon Snow when Lilly returned with Viserys meal. So she set the book aside and brought Viserys over to his table so that he could partake and fill his belly. There was enough for them to both eat, but she couldn’t, she knew what was coming and her stomach was tied in knots. 

  When Viserys was finished, she helped him dress for bed and she tucked him in. He was exhausted and she could see it, so she kissed him gently on his brow and made her way from his chambers. “Keep him here in the morning, at least until I send for him.” She said to his nursemaid before she exited the room. Lilly nodded and curtsied, not unfamiliar with the routine that followed any trial by fire. And so, with a knot in her throat, and the familiar feeling of dread settled in her stomach, Rhaella held her head high and set a course for her rooms, knowing that Aerys would not be far behind her.

  Rhaella entered her chambers stiffly, leaving her loyal guard outside. Poor child, having to listen to what was sure to come. She sat on the chair. She had to be strong. If not for herself, then for her sons. For Rhaegar. For Viserys. The thought of her boys hearing the things that were sure to occur. The thought made her shiver. 

  “Open the door, Ser Jonothor. Stand guard along with Ser Jaime.” She heard Aerys say from outside the door, before it slammed open. She flinched. He entered the room slowly, agonizingly slow, and the sick grin on his face crumbled any strength she had summoned. 

  “Lean over.” He barked in his usual manner.

  “Please, Aerys…” Rhaella begged, and not for the first time.

  “Lean over the bed. Now!” Aerys voice left no more room for discussion, so she stood, accepting what was to be her fate.

  Slowly, Rhaella moved over to the bed, already feeling her eyes fill with unshed tears, tears she refused to give her brother-husband. Apparently, she wasn’t moving fast enough. He came behind her and pushed her roughly onto her stomach on the bed. She let out a sob as he ripped the back of her dress, her skin was burning at the scratches he was leaving down her back. She hated herself, she had never hated herself more than in this moment. He pulled his own clothes off and she heard them drop to the floor. She felt him push against her slightly before making a noise of disgust. He spat on his member, before pushing into her. She cried out.

  “Aerys please! You’re hurting me!”

  “Be quiet! Mayhaps if your cunt was not as dry as your womb…” Before he could finish his sentence, he grabbed a breast in each of his hands, twisting her nipples painfully. His words were cut off with a scream. He thrusted into her roughly, using her breasts as a handlebar.

   _Be strong. Find something else to think of._ She tried to reassure herself, but the rough pain that was coming to her was almost more than she could bare. _Focus…_

   He clawed into her breasts as he thrust particularly hard into her. She let out another scream. And then she heard it. Quiet words from outside the door. 

  “We are sworn to protect her as well.” She heard Jaime say lowly to his companion.

  “We are, but not from him.” The voice who she knew to be Ser Jonothor replied.

  _Please, from him…_ she felt the tears that she had been holding back threaten to spill over. _Did they not know that it was only he that she needed protecting from?_ She prayed that Aerys did not hear the words previously said between his two guards, and even more so she prayed that Ser Jaime did not make a move to defend her once the King was finished with her. She couldn’t bare if something happened to him, not on her account. 

  How long Aerys was there, pounding into her, she could not say. At some point she let go of her mind and her body and allowed her conscious mind to go someplace else, only returning once Aerys gave his signature grunt and then she felt him roll off of her.

  When she heard the telltale sounds of him snoring, she rolled to her side and snatched one of her sheets and wrapped it about herself. Placing a barrier between her and her torturer, useless as it was. Only then did she allow the tears she had been holding back fall from their prison. 

  Rhaella had prayed to the Seven for more than twenty years, for what? She couldn’t answer honestly. They had never heard her. Not when she was forcefully betrothed to Aerys, not when the Wildfire ate at the halls of her ancestors, not when Aerys started exhibiting signs of cruelty and mistrust toward his closest friends, and not even when she found herself with child and prayed for them to let her babes live. The Seven holds no love for the House of the Dragon, and she no longer had love for them. 

  Tonight, she sent her prayers to the Old Gods. The ones who found Lyanna for her son, the ones who gifted her with the power to temper Aerys madness. Rhaella did not pray for Aerys seed to quicken though, she did not pray for Aerys to change. This time, when she sent her prayers away, it was with one hope. _Freedom…_ and this was something that she would have. She did not know how, nor when, but she knew that Aerys days as her torturer were numbered. 

  It was this thought that she kept repeating to herself as she fell into a dreamless sleep, knowing that when she woke on the morrow, her body would be bruised and aching, but Aerys would be gone from her bed and in time, he would no longer be a part of her life. 

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a long chapter... and I know that I could have posted at least half of this earlier, I felt that this whole chapter was better off read as one giant segment.  
> Thank you all for the patience and support, shout out to wxntxr_chxld for jumping in here to help me give life to Rhaella's POV.  
> Please guys, let her know in the comments what you think of her portrayal of Rhaella, and little Viserys.  
> Also, she is the author of the Final Crown of Winter Roses series, which I have been co-writing with her. If you haven’t already read It, I highly recommend that you check it out. 
> 
> So, reader questions:
> 
> What are your thoughts about the Gate and Egg reveal? 
> 
> What about Rickard and Rhaegar interactions? 
> 
> I loved giving dimension to Brandon, and I’ve rarely seen someone write Bran and Petyr’s duel or Edmure and Petyrs relationship. What did you think? 
> 
> Okay, okay, I’m dying to know what y’all felt about Aemon’s gifts?
> 
> What were your thoughts about Shadow, her pack, and finally meeting Sky? 
> 
> How did I do with the pregnancy reveals? 
> 
> What the heck is up with Old Nan? 
> 
> And lastly... what do you think is going to happen once the realm hears about Rhaegar and Lyanna? 
> 
> I’m interested in your thoughts and predictions, the story is finally about to start heating up, and I’m planning some big things for the next segment. 
> 
> If you’re not already subscribed to get updates on Ink Parchment Quill, make sure you do so now. And as always, if you haven’t already left kudos, I would really appreciate it if you did so now. 
> 
> Thanks once more for reading my story. I will try to update the next chapter more quickly. However, look out for the next chapter of Final Crown of Winter Roses in the coming days!  
> XoXo💋


	25. The Call of the Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Times speeding by. First a checkin with the Three-Eyed Raven. And then we check in with Ashara before a brief time jump. 
> 
> Brandon is finally arriving home after being on the road for six weeks. 
> 
> Howland decides that it’s time to get everyone together now that all the Starks are finally in the same place. 
> 
> And lastly, we check in with Ned the night before the renewal ceremony for Lyanna and Rhaegar. 
> 
> Next stop will likely have POVs from Lyanna, Rhaegar, Rickard and possibly Elia... I haven’t decided yet... but I hope you enjoy the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of what would have been a massive chapter. There is so much to cover before we go south, I wanted to make sure that I updated sooner. 
> 
> We are getting so close to the Rebellion, my mind is on overdrive... yes I know that many of you are anxious about what the fallout from this decision of Aerys will be, but you’re just gonna have to sit tight, I’m hoping to post part two in about a week with any luck... but who knows maybe sooner.

  **| _The Three-Eyed Raven|_**

* * *

  He had been swimming beneath the sea, navigating the ever changing current when he heard the sound of the High Harp and was drawn to it. He had been searching for anything, any sign of the Horn, the Others, the cold chill of death. He was searching for as many answers to as many questions as he could before the current changed again. 

  The melody of the High Harp was never far from his mind, but he could not turn away, not yet. The flow of time drifted forward and backward and every now and again, the current would calm some, but the Three-eyed Raven could not rest. 

  Images passed before his eyes, in the past, slaves toiled deep within the cradle, never far from the furnace that powered the flames of Old Valyria. In the North, Giant's and Singers and men dug deep within the earth, granite aisles stretching out as far as the eye could see. Somewhere long ago, there was a little girl who was touched by winter, she grew up unattached to anything that represented warmth, including the love of her father and siblings. There were four dragons battling, three against one. When the lone dragon breathes his fire, it is the burn of ice and it easily cripples the three dragons that battle against it and it's rider. 

  The harp thrums again, and this time he feels an urgency. Reluctantly, he turns back, though continually he monitors the many branching streams and rivers, hoping for anything that could be of help in this ever approaching conflict. 

  Once again he sees the flashes of images, he was Brynden Rivers once more, walking beside his mother inside the Red Keep, next to them was the Queen Naerys. The vision changed and he was alone in his chambers, he was a man grown now. The light from the fire was all that illuminated the room. He heard an echo from a time long ago ripple all around him, “ _Marry me, I will worship you for the rest of our days.”_ He  could hear the younger version of Brynden Rivers ask. The voice that answered sounded like music on his ears as she laughed, reminding him of something that he long since locked away. _“Your tender heart makes you foolish, brother. Why would I marry you? You will worship me for the rest of your days regardless.”_ He heard her respond, before he was washed away by the current once more.

   “ _Go to them, go and wait and he will come. And once he has, I will return, I swear it.”_ The Three-eyed Raven heard the words that were spoken long ago, _“What happened to your promise? How can you keep it if you’re choosing this path over your vow?”_ Her voice was choked, and a distant part of him yearned to turn back the page, to rewrite the story but that past was already written, the ink on that story already dry. 

  He kept going, focusing his intent on the push and flow of time though never so far that the sound of the harp could not be heard. The Raven desperately wanted to escape the song that snared him, like a sailor would the call of a siren, yet he could not and before he could choose his path he found himself looking outward from the eyes of a weirwood. 

  The scene revealed his kin, the silver one, who was seated within a grove of trees that he had visited often, watching the iron she-wolf and hoping among all hopes for a singular glance at _her_ , any trace at all… but it had all been for naught. 

  Until today—there, standing almost out of his line of sight she stood. She made no move to come closer. The man he had been before he became the three-eyed-raven hadn’t seen her in years, but he would still know her anywhere. . . No matter what glamour she chose to wear for the benefit of the rest of the world. 

  He decided to send a breeze through the leaves of the trees, a greeting. But she mustn't have heard it, because she quickly turned on her heels and made toward the exit… going where he could not follow.

_Don’t leave me… I made you a promise!_

  Panicking, he lept from the roots of the tree and found one of his birds and quickly entered it's mind. He couldn’t let her leave… he needed to find her, to see her once more. 

  ‘ _Star!’_ The bird cawed, but by the time he had caught up, she had already crossed the boundary that separated the Godswood from the rest of the Keep and without mercy, the sea was calling him back once more. 

  Just before he answered, he heard the crow call back ‘ _liars!’_ And just as before, he was lost beneath the waves, and the man who was once Brynden Rivers was now firmly locked away, forgetting the individual needs and focusing back to the needs of the whole. 

* * *

####  _**|The Falling Star**_ _ **|**_

* * *

After leaving Lyanna’s chambers, Ashara’s mind was reeling. She was to be a mother. _How hadn’t she suspected?_ Sure, she had definitely been more tired as of late, her eating habits had changed some and admittedly, her moon-blood had been absent… but it hadn’t been until Old Nan outright asked both Lyanna and herself about it, that the implications truly began to sink in. 

  Unconsciously, she found herself leaving the First Keep after she had said farewell to Lyanna. She made her way through the old ward, heading in the direction of the Godswood. 

  Having grown up in Dorne, Ashara had never had access to one. Nor had she been raised following the Old Way or the Nameless ones, but ever since her mark had appeared and she had come to learn more about it, she couldn’t deny the presence that she felt the moment she placed her feet upon the banks of the Isle Of Faces, or the mystical energy she felt every time she was there to witness her good-sister and the prince sing another seedling into rooting. She definitely felt that presence the moment that she passed through the inner wall of Winterfell and she knew it was a direct result of this Godswood. Even from afar, the Heart Tree was visible for miles outside of the castle and Ashara meant to go and pay her respects before she went in search of her husband. 

  When she and Ned were still in King's Landing, Queen Rhaella had asked her _why_ the Gods had seen fit to mark herself and Ned. Even though Ned had taken the time to explain, and remind her that their union represented Earth and Water, the idea that she and Lyanna had likely conceived the same night was almost too much for her to digest.

   _Will my babe share a destiny with Rhaegar and Lyanna’s babes? Are they somehow linked into this prophecy?_

_  
_Ashara couldn't deny how scared the idea of deciding the fate of her children before they were even born made her feel and she continued to mull this over as she moved through the forest.

  The sun was still visible as she moved beneath the dense canopy, the woods were quiet but there were signs of life all over, even along the path that had been marked by lantern posts, which eventually would lead her toward her destination.

  Winterfell, she found was a lively place. Often, the men and women who worked within the castle would be up, even before sunrise, tending to their tasks. When she had asked Ned about it, he explained that the daylight hours were fewer the further North one travels. As such, the people of the North, rise earlier and begin their days before sunrise so that they can get their work taken care of while the sun is still high in the sky. But Ashara had noticed almost immediately that she could hear none of it the moment she crossed between the old ward and the Godswood. Almost as if any noise that came from outside the three-acre radius of the Godswood seemingly evaporated into thin air. Like a realm that functioned within a realm, both inside and outside the bonds of time and space. 

  The forest was ancient, and hosted a wide array of tree species. Ironwood, oak, sentinel and pine among the other plant species that had taken root within these walls. Some of which had fallen over, whether that was a result of carelessness, or time she couldn't tell, but those that had fallen, eventually had been claimed by lichen and wildflowers.

  The Godswood was nothing like the carefully crafted and tended gardens of the Red Keep, or even Aegon’s garden on Dragonstone, but there was an otherworldly beauty to them regardless. The calm she felt whenever she was within the sanctuary was something she had never experienced anywhere but here, in this wild and untamed slice of paradise. 

  Every now and then, Ashara would pass by a steaming pool, only to walk a few steps and find herself ankle deep in fresh snow. The landscape, she found, was an oxymoron of sorts. How this Keep could be built atop land that both steamed and remained frozen in some places was a puzzle that she knew she would never solve, but there was little doubt that she loved this place immensely. This grey castle that was surrounded by snow and ice, that was so far away from Dorne and her beloved Starfall—. Still, if Ned asked her to stay, Ashara imagined the choice wouldn’t be difficult to make. She could already picture her children running through the Godswood, chasing after Brandon’s and Lyanna’s, playing in the hot pools, the way that she and Arthur and Aedric would play in the Water Gardens when they were children themselves. The thought made her heart pang and absentmindedly her hand moved to rest over her stomach. 

  Moments later, she found the Heart Tree, standing in the Center of the woods, silent and brooding in front of a still pond. The only one in all of the Godswood that she hadn’t noticed steam rising off of. Lyanna had called it the reflection pool and as she approached, Ashara could understand why. No matter where she stood, the baleful face of the Heart Tree stared back, eyes never leaving the water, as if the two were connected somehow. There was this urge growing within her, to learn as much as she could about this place. If for no other reason than the fact that this place would be a part of her children, just as it was a part of her mate, therefore it was a part of her as well. 

  Even from afar, the size of the tree had seemed massive, and being this close to it did nothing to alter that initial perception. The branches were long and thick in some places, some as wide as her torso, while others were no wider than her legs. Even the roots of the tree were massive, twisting out of the earth and reaching for the pool. Some knotted around each other, and conveniently made a place where someone could sit and pay tribute to them. There was a large grey boulder covered with lichen peeking up and out of the earth that sat just beside the still pond. And high above her, in the branches of the Heart Tree, scores upon scores of ravens had taken shelter watching her with knowing eyes.

  Ashara shivered under their scrutiny, even though there was a part of her that had grown more accustomed to their presence. Because after the tourney they had taken to following both Rhaegar and Lyanna in large numbers, so seeing them here now was no surprise. 

  Settling herself down upon one of the many exposed roots; Ashara turned to face the brooding visage of the weirwood. Focusing her thoughts on the very reason she had decided to come— Neds dreams from when they were sailing North. 

  She did not blame him for the decisions he would have made in an alternate timeline, to do so,  would do nothing more than poison what they shared in the here and now. But knowing that there was a life growing within her womb, one created through their love, made her fear for what _could_ be in the months and years to come. What could happen when Rhaegar decides it's time to move against his father? What could happen if, Gods forbid, Brandon didn’t marry his betrothed for some reason? Ashara couldn't take that chance. She couldn’t lose Ned, not now and not like that. There was a part of her that knew that Ned wouldn’t survive losing them either, so this is what she begged of the Gods. 

   _Keep my pack safe. Keep us whole and united, give me this and I swear to you, I shall bring you back to Dorne with me. I’ll make Aedric create a space for a Godswood at Starfall and I’ll see that my children are raised where you will always have eyes to see them._

  She didn’t carry a blade, so she made no offering, but she felt the wind stir and somehow Ashara understood that the Gods had heard her and were answering her plea. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and rested against the trunk of the tree, letting the events of the day wash over her. When she opened them once more, she felt warmth pressed against her that she couldn’t identify, so she glanced down and found the forms of two new Direwolves resting beside her. Unsure of how to extract herself from her current situation, she looked around for a way to pull herself from the ground, only to find her husbands cool grey eyes looking down on her with a curious expression.

_I must have dozed off unintentionally,_ she realized.

  “Hey, my love. Is everything alright?” Ned greeted her, concern lacing his tone. 

  She straightened herself up, and looked back down at the two sleeping wolves beside her before looking back to her mate. “Are you responsible for these?” She asked instead. 

  Her husband shook his head, “Nay, I’ve never met these two, they were here when I arrived. I stumbled upon you by chance actually. I had meant to come and pray before joining you in our rooms.” Ned chuckled, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck before finishing his thought. “Imagine my surprise when I found you here, beside the Heart Tree with two Direwolves to keep you warm. They must’ve come because they could sense you would need them,” he finished. 

   _Perhaps,_ she thought.

  But Ashara suspected that the Old Gods may have sent them, just as they had sent them to Lyanna. The wolves were as connected to these Nameless Gods as Winterfell was to it's Godswood. A fact that she didn’t need anyone to confirm for her. 

  She reached out for Ned, beckoning him to come and sit beside her, which he did gladly and she smiled reassuringly the moment he was settled in at her side. 

  Ashara had never been a shy child, she was never one to mince words, nor did she have a habit of dragging her feet on matters of import. If she had learned anything through this whole endeavor, it was that time should not be wasted waiting for the _right_ moment to speak. Ned had every right to know about her— _their_ current predicament. She turned to him and gathered his calloused hands into hers. 

  “What’s going on, Ash?” Ned asked once more. 

  She could see he was concerned so she began to tell him her truth. “I was with Lyanna this evening before I came here.” Confusion flitted across his face but she didn’t let that stop her. “Be at ease, I’m simply starting at the beginning.”

  Ned nodded his head in answer and so she continued. “As you know, Old Nan has been with us ever since we arrived and to my amazement, she is quite perceptive given her many years.” Ashara chuckled, thinking of the sly way that Nan broached the subject. 

  “Aye, sometimes I find myself wondering if it's not all an act. I’ve never had any success keeping secrets from her. She even knew about our marks before anyone else.”  Ned confessed, a wistful smile gracing his face. 

  Ashara found this detail fascinating but she was determined not to let it distract her from her mission. “Ned,” she stated, drawing his attention back to the current moment. 

  She inhaled deeply and then she told him. “Ned, we’re having a babe, I’m— I’m with child.” 

_Just rip off the bandage…_

  For a moment, her husband just sat there in silence, he was clearly processing her words, but after a few seconds a smile lit up his face and he quickly pulled her into the safety of his arms. “How—how can you be sure?” He asked, pulling back to get a good look at her. She could see him working over every moment that they had spent together over the past few moons. 

  “I admit, the time has gotten away from me since we’ve sealed our bond, but my last moon cycle was just before the tournament began. With all the travel, the marks, the research, and well... us getting more familiar with one another…” Ashara couldn’t help but blush. “It never even occurred to me. Not until Old Nan raised the question to Lyanna and I this evening—,” she stopped herself from saying any more. Realizing that she almost told Ned about Lyanna. Ashara knew that her good-sister wouldn’t mind, but it was not her place to tell anyone about her condition, this would be something Ned would have to hear from Lyanna himself. 

  Ever perceptive, Ned raised a questioning eyebrow. “All I’m going to say is, this discussion is in regards to you and I, if you would like to know what Nan said to Lyanna while I was being examined, you will have to ask her. As for me, I have nothing else to share.” Ashara interrupted before he could formulate a question. 

  Instead he focused on the topic at hand. “So it's true then, we’re having a pup of our own?” Ned was excited, she could see it clearly. Ashara nodded happily, knowing that everything would work out, she would have faith. 

  They sat there, under the canopy of the Heart Tree for a bit longer, speaking of trivial matters among other things, and at some point Ashara found her mate reaching out to caress her stomach tenderly. The action nearly brought tears to her eyes, she wasn’t sure what she had done in her past life to deserve a man so tender and caring, but she knew with certainty that she would fight with everything in her to keep him at her side. She loved him fiercely, her quiet wolf, and she knew beyond a doubt that he loved her just as ardently. 

 By the time Ned managed to disentangle her from in between the two wolves who had come to lend her their warmth, the sun was long gone, and the stars were just starting to reclaim their space among the heavens. Ashara felt as if the day had gone on forever, but she also felt more at peace with everything she had learned. The most important part was that she had Ned and he had both her and their babe, and nothing could take that from either of them. Whatever the future brings, they would face it together, as a pack. 

  Over the next weeks Ashara managed to keep herself busy, assisting Lyanna with the tasks that the Lady of Winterfell would normally oversee. Though technically, she would not be responsible for these tasks, but Brandon was yet unwed, and Lyanna would eventually be responsible for the running of the Red Keep, so she figured it couldn’t hurt if she took the time to familiarize herself with the way Winterfell was ran. It also helped to keep her mind off of other things, like Elia and her pregnancy, or the Queen and little Viserys, who were all alone in the Capitol with the King and no Lyanna there to temper him. Then there was her brother Aedric and his wife back in Starfall and her dreams. At least there had been word from Elia…

  A few days after their arrival, Arthur received his first raven from her good-sister, she had written to update him on the progress of her pregnancy, as well as the other things that a husband and wife would typically discuss through correspondence. She, of course had also sent word to Rhaegar, filling him in on the affairs concerning Dragonstone and some information regarding the Blacksmith Tobho Mott and the work that he had been doing for the prince. There were minor updates in regards to King's Landing. Of course, her brother still moped around most days, having a raven could only cure him for so long, Ashara could see how hard it was for him to be so far away from her while she was nearing the final weeks of her pregnancy, which is why Lyanna checked in on her every chance she could. 

  At first, when Arthur went to Lyanna and asked her if she had seen Elia, Ashara was confused. But then Lyanna explained to her that she was a warg and a skin-changer. Not that she had ever had any experience with either term, she only knew what everyone knew, that it was a practice that most people thought unnatural and was more common North of the Wall. But with everything that they discovered over the past few months, nothing was off limits, and if Lyanna could send her consciousness across the realm to see through the eyes of a creature she had bonded to, Ashara wouldn’t question it, no more than she would the presence of the Direwolves that migrated within the castle a little more every day. 

  Now that it had been determined that Aemon intended to remain in Winterfell, the lines of communication had become more secure, and as such correspondence between Winterfell and Dragonstone had become more frequent. Rhaegar, used this as an opportunity to send regular updates to not only Elia, who was acting as his Hand to a certain extent but also updates that she was expected to send to the King through the messenger that had delivered his last message. 

  It had been over a moon since they arrived, but Rhaegar hadn’t received anything from his father save the decree that Aerys sent announcing his desire to see Lyanna and Rhaegar wed while they were in the North. Which, in truth had been the task that had taken up most of her free time. 

  Over the last few weeks, her good-father had received an overwhelming amount of communication, confirming the attendance of almost every major and minor House intending to come and bare witness to the exchange of vows between the prince and Lyanna. The keep had been in a frenzy, not to mention that a raven had arrived from Moat Cailin a fortnight past announcing that her good-brother Brandon, along with the rest of his party, should be arriving within the sennight. 

  The biggest issue, or at least she thought it would be a big issue, was the dress that Lyanna would wear for her ceremony. Ashara was capable with a needle, but she had absolutely no experience creating traditional Northern garments and she hadn’t the first clue as to how she was to help prepare a dress that would be appropriate for such an occasion.

  Luckily, her stress had all been for naught, because her good-father had already chosen the gown and Old Nan had confirmed that it would fit perfectly. Instead, she focused her attention on modifying Lyanna’s “maiden's cloak” for the ceremony. 

  Currently, she and Lyanna, along with Rhaegar, Arthur, Ned and Oswell were assisting Aemon in the library tower. With time speeding by, and the weather changing, Rhaegar and Lyanna had decided to take the gates back to Dragonstone, following the ceremony. This way they would have some time before having to sail for King's Landing. It was because of this that her good-sister began obsessing over some documents that she was determined to bring back with her for the King. 

  Aemon was sat beside herself, quietly reading through a book that seemed quite old, every now and again she would catch him watching her, but he never said a thing. She thought it odd, but she never mentioned it, she didn’t want to call him out, just in case he hadn’t actually been looking in her direction, for all Ashara knew, his eyes probably needed a rest from the book he had been pouring over. Only, eventually he closed the book and sat back in his chair, one hand coming up to scratch under his chin, giving the appearance that he had been contemplating something. 

  Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she decided to ask, “Is everything alright Maester Aemon?”

  He said nothing for a moment, but then a kind smile graced his face and an instant later, he explained. “Has anyone ever told you that you resemble your great grandmother?”

  She had not expected this question, she had not thought to be the center of his attention at all, so she sat there stunned for just a moment. Honestly, no one had ever mentioned her great grandmother, not that she knew why. Ashara shook her head, “I can’t say that they have, there isn’t much known about the Lady Ella Dayne, did you know her?” She knew that she and Maester Aemon were kin, so it wasn’t impossible that he would and honestly, it was so rare to meet someone of Aemon’s age, she would gladly welcome any story that he would know about their shared kin as long as he was willing to share it. 

  Aemon chuckled, clearly amused by something she said. “Aye, I imagine I knew her quite well. She was my sister Daella after all.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that he drew the attention of the rest of the room. 

  “Excuse me? Daella Targaryen?” Ashara clarified. How had she not known that House Targaryen was wed back into House Dayne?

  Aemon nodded his confirmation, “Where do you think your violet eyes and Arthur’s silver hair come from? Those are the gifts that were passed down from your great grandmother.” His words were full of love and wonder, and perhaps a bit of melancholy too. 

  The Prince and Arthur approached. Rhaegar, clearly overheard what they were discussing and had questions, if the expression on his face was any indication. 

  “Uncle, to be clear, we know that the Lady Dyanna married your father, King Maekar, but how is it possible that the histories don’t mention Princess Daella marrying back into House Dayne?” Rhaegar questioned, and in truth Ashara had been wondering the same thing. 

  “Ah, there are quite a few reasons, I suspect. The first reason is that princesses not married back into the ruling line or into the family in general, seldom retain their name. And the Citadel cares more for trueborn sons than they do the offspring of trueborn daughters that are not expected to inherit. As for Daella, she never wanted to be the center of attention. When we were young, she was expected to marry Egg you see, but even from an early age, Daella wanted nothing to do with the match. She even tried to give Egg a love potion that would make him fall in love with our sister Rhae rather than herself. As you know, Egg also had no intention to keep with the tradition of marrying brother to sister. Especially after seeing how our brother Daeron drank himself into oblivion and how Aerion’s obsessions turned into cruelty and in some people’s opinion, madness.” Aemon explained. 

  “Eventually, Aegon married Betha Blackwood and Daella was free to take a different husband. Which is how she ended up married to our cousin, your great grand sire Aeryn Dayne.” His thoughts trailed off for just a moment before he finished. “Daella use to have the most lovely voice, I remember hearing her sing to her babes; I miss her dearly.” Aemon reminisced while the group of them listened with fascination. 

  “I hate to call attention to the mammoth in the room,” Lyanna spoke up from across the table. 

  Ashara turned her attention toward her good-sister who up until that moment had been reading through some old journals that she had brought with her from Dragonstone. Her tone spoke of regret, but the gleam in her eyes spoke of something else… 

  “Are you going to tell us, or would you like us to guess?” Ashara asked. 

  Lyanna huffed playfully. “Fine, I suppose I can help you all see the obvious. Remember when we were in the caves on Dragonstone?” She asked. They all nodded. “The oroborus was carved three times, all of them intertwined within the other… I thought it meant our children only, because Rhaegar has the blood of House Dayne and House Targaryen, while I have the blood of House Stark. But this information changes things.” 

  “How so?” Rhaegar asked not quite grasping what she was saying. 

  “The bloodlines need to be reunited… remember Vhagar and Balerion and Meraxes… the three original offspring… they separated, and made their homes away from one another… but eventually they were fated to come back to one another. A star, a dragon and a wolf…” she said, pointing toward each of them. We know that Ash and Ned represent Water and earth, while you and I are elementals, Fire and Ice. But what purpose do Ned and Ash serve? Well, it’s clear now, isn’t it? Ashara brings the blood of House Dayne and House Targaryen to their union while Ned brings the blood of House Stark… the same way _you_ provide the blood of House Dayne and House Targaryen and I bring the blood of House Stark... Collectively, our two lines reunite the trinity. The three heads of the dragon.” Lyanna finished in a way that left them all sitting there dumbfounded. 

  Aemon smiled knowingly and then he opened the book that he had been reading back to a page that he had marked. “You are almost there, my dear. But not quite.” He slid the book across the table, where everyone could see it, including Lyanna. 

  Rhaegar scanned over the page and then he snatched it up, shock and what looked like relief were written on his face. His eyes darted to Lyanna and then back to Aemon. “I— I mean, we had hoped for this, but after we found the eggs, I dismissed the alternative almost entirely.”

  “Care to share what you learned?” Oswell asked, obviously not having seen the page properly. 

  “There were two girls born at the end of the Dance of Dragons. The twin daughters of Jacaerys Velaryon and Sara Snow… they were marked, just like we were. Though there was never any confirmation of their union until now.” Rhaegar said. 

  “And what happened to them?” Lyanna asked, unable to contain her curiosity. 

  Rhaegar flipped to the next page, and then the next. “Jace died before the war ended, and Sara in child bed. Cregan and Alysanne found each other while he was in the south, and on their way North they stopped at Raventree Hall and spoke their vows in the Godswood of her kin. When they finally arrived north, Cregan was informed by his son that Sara had passed away, leaving behind twin girls.”

  “You dreamed about this,” Lyanna said. 

  “Aye, but I was unable to find any proof that there were children.” He breathed out a sigh of relief. “At any rate, this goes on to state that Alysanne claimed to have already been with child upon their arrival, she and Rickard exchanged vows in the Godswood of Winterfell once more and she later gave birth to twins. Two girls named Alys and Sarra.”

  Lyanna spoke up once more, “I know about Sarra and Alys. Alys went south and married back into House Blackwood and Sarra went North and married a Flint of the Mountain clans. But how are you so sure that they weren’t actually the daughters of Alysanne and Cregan?” She asked. 

  Ashara was wondering the same thing, truth be told. If Cregan Stark and Alysanne went through all the trouble of covering up the union of Jace and Sara, why would they write about it? And another thing, why would they keep them hidden from the crown?

  Rhaegar looked at Lyanna and smiled. “Because, their birth documents are here. And—,” he flipped the page with the birth documents up revealing another document that had been attached behind it. “They made sure to keep the true birth documents as well.”

  Ned, who had remained quiet throughout this whole exchange, finally decided to weigh in. “So, if I’m to understand all of this, House Targaryen and House Stark share blood through our grandmother Arya Flint, is that what you’re telling us?” She could tell by his expression that he was struggling to process all of this. 

  Aemon nodded, confirming what everyone else must have been thinking. “That’s correct, each of you represent the rejoining of all three bloodlines. The only difference is that House Stark’s blood relation came from an actual dragon rider, while House Dayne’s bloodline comes from post Dance and therefore is at the same magical disadvantage as House Targaryen before Rhaegar. Both Lyanna and Eddard complete the trilogy. Three heads has the dragon.” Aemon finished. 

  Both Lyanna and Rhaegar looked pleased by this bit of information, but all Ashara could do was worry for her future children. She found herself looking to Arthur, but to her dismay, he looked absolutely thrilled by the fact that he would have a niece or nephew who would join his best friends children in the greatest battle that humanity would ever know.

  It wasn’t like Ashara hadn’t known that her children were involved, they would be Starks, and there was no way that a Stark would sit out of a war where the Others were involved. It’s too ingrained in their blood to not do all that was in their power to save humanity the same way they did eight thousand years ago. But to know that at the very least, one of them was destined to fight on the front lines was enough to make her sick with worry. 

  “I’m sorry,” she said standing from her chair. “This is a lot to take in, do you mind if I retire to my rooms?” She said aloud, not really addressing anyone in particular. 

  “Of course,” Rhaegar replied, concern for her radiated off of him. “I do hope you’re alright.” The prince followed up. 

  “I’ll be fine,” she promised, “nothing that some rest won’t cure.” She lied, she just needed to get away from these talks of prophecy and destiny. 

  Ned, stood next. “I’ll escort you,” he said, offering her his arm, which she readily accepted. 

  Ashara nodded, she couldn’t very well decline his offer. Plus, out of everyone present, Ned looked as appalled as she felt about the whole thing. 

  “I’ll see you all at last meal,” she announced before taking leave of everyone. She couldn’t get out of there soon enough… 

* * *

_**|The Wild Wolf|** _

* * *

  Gods it felt good to be home, not just Winterfell, but the North as a whole. Brandon felt like he had been on the road forever, though he wouldn’t complain. This was the life he loved most, being on horseback, the sun and the wind and the stars overhead. With the moon as his constant companion. When he was out here, there were no rules, no betrothals, no duties. There was no future lordship or expectations on his person… there was just the moon and the open air. 

  His companions had long since grown accustomed to his _free spirit_ as Lyanna liked to call it, his father called it his wolf blood, but Brandon couldn’t agree. If he were wolf blooded, he wouldn’t have been sitting in the solar of a Trout a moon and a half ago, signing an official contract that would shackle him to one woman for the rest of his days. Instead he would have been like Lyanna, protesting at the very idea of being sold off for the sake of some maesters Southern ambitions.

  Except, that’s exactly what he had been doing...

  Mayhap this is why he had found himself riding through the Rills on his way home. It wasn’t like he loved Barbrey, and a part of her understood this as well. His father had made it quite clear that there would be no match between the two of them, and even went as far as arranging a match for Barbrey that was set to take place within the year, same as him. These facts did little from deterring her away from him though, and he knew that she would willingly accept him. That he hadn’t been between a woman’s thighs since Harrenhal, was also the reason he had found himself seeking her out, not that he had confessed this to her at the time. 

  Barbrey craved his cock, not his conversation. And he honestly had no interest in her mind… she was bold, and about as unladylike as Lyanna, but that was where their similarities ended. And it was because of this that once he had found his release, he found himself pulling out of her and tucking himself back into his breeches. Prepared to ride for Winterfell straight away.

  Barbrey was fun, and wild in bed, but she would never be his wife…no, his father had chosen Lady Catelyn for that task and if he were being honest, between the two of them, Catelyn would be better suited to bear him heirs. There was nothing maternal about Barbrey, and he had spent more than enough time without a mother to know that he wanted his children to have one. This is why before he left her rooms that night, he had reminded her to take moon tea. He would have no bastards by her, and to be sure of it, he would make sure Old Nan gave her some once they arrived in Winterfell. 

  Upon arriving in the Rills, Barbrey had informed him that her Lord Father had been preparing to ride for Winterfell to witness Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar exchange vows. Apparently a lot had happened in the time since he had departed Riverrun, and now the North was preparing to ride for Winterfell to bare witness to a union that had already taken place on the Isle Of Faces. 

  The brother in him wanted to leave immediately, but the beast in him needed to find a release, so he and Barbrey had snuck off after her household retired for the evening and did what they always did whenever she was conveniently nearby. But now here he was, at least a week ahead of Barbrey’s party and a few hours away from his pack at most. 

  The red leaves of the weirwood had been visible for miles now, and he had one more hill to crest before the grey walls of his home would be visible. Brandon had made this journey many times over the past years, so often in fact that he almost had the route memorized and the closer he got, the stronger the call in his blood became. It was like a tether, linking him to his little sister, their blood singing, calling out to the only other person who knew exactly what it felt like to crave freedom and pack.

   _Except… Lyanna had started a pack of her own, hadn’t she?_

  Kicking his heels into the side of his mount, he looked back to the faces of his companions. Ethan, Jeffory, Kyle and Elbert had been with him since the Tourney and no doubt they were as ready to get off the road as he was. “I’ll see you all there!” He called back to them, not waiting to see if they would follow. Brandon needed to get home… he had been separated from his pack long enough. 

  It was midday by the time his horse had managed to enter the courtyard, but his Lord Father, Lyanna, Ned and Ben were all there to greet him. Storm was quick, Brandon knew, but his companions managed to keep pace well enough and not long after, they were riding through the gates as well. 

  His father, as expected, stood there as silent as the crypt and as imposing as ever. Beside him Lyanna was like a squirming sack of snakes and all Brandon could do was smile at the sight, knowing that she was dying to throw herself at him in the same manner she always had whenever he would come home from Barrowton. On the other side of his father stood Ned, looking like a smaller copy of the Lord of Winterfell, while Ben stood to Lya’s right, in the same place that he could always be found.

  Not wasting a moment, Brandon quickly dismounted and moved to greet his family.  “Father,” he said, bowing his head in respect. 

  His Lord father was an imposing man, tall and lean, an exact copy of the Starks who were once Kings in the North if ever there was a comparison to be made. But there was also a softness in him, one that he only showed to his children. Brandon, being his heir was more prone to see it when his father dealt with Lyanna and Ben, but it was here now as well. And honestly, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

  “Welcome home, my son.” His father returned warmly. Brandon felt his father's hand clap him on the shoulder, indicating for him to rise. He, of course complied without hesitation and was quickly brought in to a fierce embrace that took him by surprise. 

  Not to be outdone, his sister threw her arms around his middle and the three of them remained like that for a moment that felt like forever just before his father pulled back, leaving him to Lyanna’s mercy, or torment, depending on the occasion. 

  He pulled back and held her at arm's length, wanting to have a proper look at his baby sister. It wasn’t that he hadn’t trusted Ned to take care of Lyanna, but the last time he had seen her was the day following her wedding, the day he’d had to send his sister South with nothing more than a promise from a prince that she would be safe. 

  And safe she had been, if the look of her was any indication. Lyanna was radiant, her hair was worn down loose, as was common for her while she was at home. She was dressed in fine leather breeches and a matching tunic. She wore no cape or coat— _typical_. 

  Unlike everyone else, his sister never felt the touch of Winter, at least not as harshly as normal mortal beings that is. He imagined that this weather was just as comforting to her as an open flame would be to a dragon. 

  Her cheeks held a light tint of pink, and her heartbeat was slightly erratic. “Did you run all the way from King's Landing to greet me?” He teased.

  Lyanna punched him on the arm playfully. “Don’t be stupid, of course not. I was training with Arthur.” She beamed, pointing in the direction of the training yard where he found his good-brother, who was with Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell sparring. Brandon raised an eyebrow and then glanced nervously toward his father who hadn’t said a word, though he could see that the subject pained him.

  “Training with Arthur?” He parroted back dumbly, clearly having heard her the first time but needing to be sure that he hadn’t been deceived by his own ears. Lyanna was still beaming though and nodded eagerly in confirmation. “I suppose we have much to catch up on.” He admitted and it was true. He wanted to hear all about Lyanna’s time in the South, about the King and Dragonstone. He wanted to catch up with Ben about his journey home with the Great-Jon, he wanted to catch up with Ned and hear about Ashara and how married life was treating them both. He even wanted to catch up with Howland— who, on second glance was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is Howland and Ashara?” He questioned. 

  “The last time I saw Ashara, she was heading toward the Library Tower to speak with Aemon. As for Howland, it’s quite possible that he is also there, otherwise he’ll be in the Godswood.” Ned answered, walking up and pulling him in for a tight hug. One that, if at all possible, was more brief than the one he’d shared with his father. “It’s good to see you home, big brother.” Ned greeted.

  “Aye, it’s good to be home.” Brandon returned. “Mayhap we can get something to eat, and my companions can rest while we catch up?” He tacked on. 

  “Aye, took the words right out of my mouth,” his father agreed in his gruff Northern brogue, turning to face his companions. “You boys look like you could use some food and a bath. C’mon and Vayon will get you all sorted out.” His father said, turning back to lead their collective group in the direction of the Great Hall, but he was forced to stop when they heard a commotion coming from the direction of the First Keep. 

  “Did someone let the horses out of the stabl—,” Brandon was just about to ask, but before he could finish, the words died on his tongue. 

  Racing toward them were at least ten huge Direwolves. DIREWOLVES! And everyone was just standing around like this was a common place activity… 

  “Lyanna?” He questioned cautiously. Though, there was a part of him that was thrilled and was itching to move forward to get a closer look. After all, there were Direwolves inside their ancestral home that hadn’t actually been carved from stone. 

  “Steady Bran, they just want to say hello.” Lyanna cautioned, answering his question. 

  “How many are there?” He found himself asking, though he never took his eyes from the wolves that were now approaching much more slowly. 

  Lyanna shrugged. “When we arrived, there were at least three and thirty, though their numbers increase by the day. It doesn’t matter though. They are just going to keep coming until there are none left beyond the Wall.” She seemed so sure in her response. 

  “How can you know all of that?” He questioned skeptically. It wasn’t that he did not believe her. His sister could make the impossible occur, he just wanted to understand. 

  “Because,” Lyanna said, looking up to meet him eye to eye. “Shadow and I are bonded and they are her pack. She’s their alpha.” She explained, looking back to the wolves who were now standing loosely around his brothers and Lord Father. 

  A huge black Direwolf, though not the largest, stood at the lead. When Lyanna reached out, the Direwolf approached and Brandon sucked in a breath. 

  The beast was gorgeous, there was no doubt about it. Black like midnight, though her coat alternated between blue and black, not dissimilar from the color of Ironwood leaves, a sort of black with blue accents. But her eyes were like two molten pools of silver— a silver that matched the silver ring around the outer part of Lyanna’s eyes. Eyes that she’d inherited from their own mother, though their mothers hadn’t been quite as pronounced. 

  Shadow— padded up to him on silent paws and sniffed the air around him. She circled, checking him over, assessing him almost and Brandon watched her through his peripherie. Once she had made a full circle she pressed her snout into his chest, causing him to step back unexpectedly. The she-wolf was strong and otherworldly, just like Lyanna. 

  He hadn’t been sure why he did it, but with a hesitant hand he reached out and allowed her to smell him and when she didn’t back away, he brushed his palm over her head and between her ears.

  “She likes you.” Lyanna announced, her pleasure was clear to see. 

  Brandon couldn't stop himself from returning her enthusiasm, grinning like a green-boy. “Is she yours?” He asked and Benjen chuckled, sharing a look with their father. 

  “About as much as anything born in the wild could ever belong to a person. But no, she belongs to her pack. We are bonded, I can share her skin, but I dare say that it is I who belongs to her.” Lyanna replied with fondness, drawing the attention of the wolf in question. 

  “What does that mean, _you share her skin?_ ” Brandon asked, not fully understanding the concept. 

  Lyanna looked to their father, a silent conversation taking place and then his father gestured to Ned who nodded. 

  “Ethan, Kyle, Jeffory and Elbert, right this way. I’ll show you to the Great Hall,” Ned said, reminding him that they were not alone, so caught up in the moment he’d been. 

  He turned back to his friends, whom he was sure would be more than happy to get out of the cold, only to find them frozen in place beside their mounts who were nervously shifting around in the presence of the Direwolves. 

  “It’s okay boys, they won’t harm you while Lyanna is here, follow Ned and he will get you all situated.” He heard his father say and Brandon nodded, somehow knowing that his father spoke truth. 

  Reluctantly, and with their horses still in hand, his friends nodded nervously and then they cautiously followed Ned toward the stables, none of them uttering a single word. 

  Turning back to his sister, he raised a questioning brow. “Is it only safe when you’re around?”

  Lyanna smiled beatifically, but shook her head. “They are wolves, so naturally they hunt, but they hunt as a pack and so far, there have been no attacks. Shadow keeps them in line and she knows that I do not want people who are also our pack to be harmed.”

  “And how does she know this? More importantly, how do you know that she knows this? Did she tell you herself that she understood?” He asked, still not quite grasping what it was that Lyanna was telling him.

  Before Lyanna could answer, Shadow huffed, as if she was clearly offended by his lack of understanding and Brandon found himself momentarily taken aback. 

  Lyanna chuckled, “Brandon, I’m a skin-changer and a warg, I have been for quite some time. The first time was with Winter, though at the time I had no idea. But with Shadow… I have wolf dreams. Dreams where I can see through her eyes, where I’m inside of her skin, where I can hear her thoughts. We are connected in a way that is both mental and physical.” Lyanna explained. 

  Unsure of what to say to that, Brandon looked over to his father who nodded back in confirmation, beside him stood a deep grey wolf with vivid green eyes. “Do you also have this gift?” He asked, curious now that he could see that this wolf had clearly chosen his father. 

  “Nay,” his father said, shaking his head. “I’ve named him though, and he seems to have taken a liking to me, but this is Lyanna’s pack.”

  It was curious to say the least, to see his sister standing here, now a married woman, a princess consort, and Queen of both Winter and Wolves. The little girl who not six moons ago was being forced to entertain a perspective betrothal to a man whom she was certain would be her doom. 

_How easily power can  shift..._  

  Before the tourney, she was just another daughter, born of a High Lord, who had been expected to do her duty for the _glory_ of her House. But now Lyanna _was_ the glory of their House. She could easily be the most powerful person in the whole North, given the new army of Direwolves that she managed to lay claim to. 

  Brandon thought to say as much, but found that he couldn’t. . . Breaking away from the back of the pack, another Direwolf approached. This one was a similar size to the one his father had taken a liking to. “And who are you?” Brandon found himself asking instead. 

  “He has no name,” Lyanna answered. 

  This, he thought curious. “He’s in the castle, but you haven’t chosen a name for him?”

  “Only four of them have names. Only four of them have chosen someone to connect with.” Lyanna clarified. “The others come and go at their leisure, when they aren’t in the Wolfswood or the Godswood, they are likely in my chambers or with Father and Blizzard.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me Lya, but I’m still trying to understand what all of this means.” He confessed earnestly.

  Lyanna nodded, “When we arrived, there were only three in the castle, Blizzard,” she gestured to the grey that stood beside their father, “Storm,” she said, pointing to the lighter grey with blue-grey eyes who was looking off in the direction that Ned had gone, “and Shadow.” She didn’t need to motion toward her black wolf, whom she had already introduced.

  “Torrh came after,” she went on to explain, motioning toward Ben who had his hand resting on the back of a grey and brown wolf. This one was younger, Brandon could tell straight away, as his size was not nearly as comparable to the other three but he was clearly still growing. “Before you ask, no, neither Ned nor Ben have this gift either. The wolves seem to have chosen them though.” Lyanna finished, answering the question that he was prepared to ask without prompting. 

  It was a lot to wrap his head around but he had some time still, so he turned his attention back to the wolf who was still slowly approaching, “Don’t be shy Brandon, it doesn’t suit you.” Lyanna teased, nudging him forward. 

    The first thing he noticed, apart from his size and the color of his coat was the color or colors of his eyes. Just like his coat, his eyes were two-toned; one grey, the other was a silver-blue that had a black ring around the outer iris. Storm— his horse, was quite large for a northern bred courser, but this wolf was, in his opinion, almost equal in size. Though the truth was far less grand, however, he was definitely the size of a large pony. Based on the size of his head alone, Brandon knew that he would be able to snap the bones of a human with little to no effort at all.

  Remembering Lyanna’s words from before, he closed the distance and held out a hand for the wolf to sniff, but was surprised when he brushed past his outstretched palm and pushed his body into his chest, marking his clothing and his person with his scent. 

  Lyanna beamed at this. “I thought so,” she said, clearly pleased. 

  Brandon looked at her, “Could you clarify?”

  “He chose you, just as Torrh, Blizzard and Storm chose Father, Ben and Neddie.” Lyanna said, as if it were obvious. 

  It wasn’t, “I don’t understand what that means?” He replied, narrowing his eyes at Lya.

  “You’ll have plenty of time to learn, now c’mon, the wolves can go hunt, but our meal is still waiting on us,” Lyanna said, pulling him by the arm in the direction of the Great Hall, their father and Ben falling in beside them. 

  Brandon chanced one last look back at the wolf who Lyanna had claimed chose him… and for the first time since the day his Lady Mother departed, Brandon had no desire to leave… he had finally found his pack.

  On the way, he nudged his little sister playfully, gaining her attention. “So, Ned named his wolf Storm?” He asked, waggling his eyebrows and grinning like a fool, he had no doubt. 

  Lyanna rolled her eyes but returned his smile with one of her own. “Oh please, you don’t own the name just because you named your horse Storm. Besides, how often does Storm respond to you when you call for him?” She asked him logically.

  Brandon huffed, already wondering who this creature pretending to be his wild little sister was. “Begone, Grumpkin! You cannot fool me, I demand you return Winterfell’s she-wolf at once!” He quipped back teasingly. 

  “You wound me,” Lyanna pouted, but recovered just as quickly, shoving him lovingly the way that he knew she would, making him smile at her feigned indignance. 

  This is exactly what he had missed about home. What a shame that she wouldn’t be here forever, he mused.

   “But seriously Bran, I don’t think you have anything to fret over, I swear he won’t confuse your steed for his wolf. Anyway, the wolves have as much of a say in the choosing of their names as the _person_ whose naming them.” Lyanna returned, poking her tongue out at him and drawing him from his thoughts. 

  “Say what you will, we both know that Ned just wanted to be like his big brother.” Brandon called back, pretending not to have gotten lost inside his head. 

  Lyanna rolled her eyes once more, “Whatever you have to tell yourself to help you sleep at night.” Lyanna returned sarcastically. “Oh, and you should probably start thinking of something to call your own friend.” And with that his little sister went skipping off to speak with her husband who was currently walking over to join them in the Great Hall. 

  Over the course of their meal, Brandon took some time to catch up with his pack. By now, Ethan, Kyle, Jeffory and Elbert had heard all about the impending nuptials between Lyanna and Rhaegar, so having them present was no big deal, though Brandon did notice Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell watching Elbert with suspicious eyes. He supposed it was due to the fact that Robert was still expected to be in the Eyrie while Lord Arryn’s heir was here in the North. That no one knew of how little Elbert actually cared for Robert Baratheon was obvious, and a detail he would be sure to mention. Regardless of all that, the four of them all made oaths that they would not repeat anything they saw or heard during their stay in Winterfell and the North as a whole. And furthermore they would not repeat anything in regards to Lyanna or the Crowned Prince until the King sent word to the rest of the realm. 

  Lyanna and he, managed some time alone in a corner, where she told him all about Dragonstone and King's Landing and  above all, the throne room of the Red Keep. She was glowing when she told him in vivid detail about seeing the skull of Vhagar, of course he absorbed every detail like a sponge, but he couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm over a dead dragon that had been gone for almost two-hundred years. To anyone else the story might have sounded trivial, but most people hadn’t grown up with Lyanna for a sister. No, Lyanna seeing Vhagar was the equivalent of Aegon the Conqueror coming back to knight every young boy who ever aspired to knighthood. It was a big deal, which, given all the things Lyanna has seen and experienced over the past year, was oddly comforting to Brandon. A lot of things have changed, but not his sister. 

  Ned and Ashara looked to be happy as well, and Ned even smiled more without looking pained to do it. Howland made an appearance towards the end of the meal once the hall had cleared some. The two of them spoke briefly, Howland welcomed him home warmly and promised that they would all speak soon.

  Eventually it was just him and his father, and Brandon remembered the message that Hoster had asked him to deliver.

  “I trust that your stay in Riverrun went according to plan?” His father asked with all the warmth of a glacier. 

  Brandon nodded, “We agreed to set the date for the sixth moon of the following year.”

  Rickard hummed… “That will do, we shall hold a new great council at Moat Cailin in the fifth moon and from there we will proceed on to your wedding.”

  Brandon felt a shiver run down his spine. There was no warmth in his tone, his father spoke about his marriage as if it were a business transaction. “Father, I’m not sure that Catelyn is suited for life in the North.” He had to try, even if he knew that his words would fall on deaf ears. 

  His father fixed him with a pointed stare, “I could care less about the Lady Catelyn's suitability to the North, the fact is her dowry includes the Riverlands. She has one brother who is very young and her father's lands are very fertile. Should something happen to that boy, your children could potentially inherit Riverrun one day. In addition to that, your wedding guarantees that the Riverlands are under control when it’s time to unseat Aerys and place your good-brother on the Iron Throne.”

  Brandon groaned internally. There was no getting out of this, as he had known… not unless he abdicated and ran off to be a sell-sword or a Wildling beyond the Wall, mayhap he could ask Lyanna to help him prepare for a life in the frozen North. 

   _Don’t be selfish Brandon… Lyanna needs you… your pack needs you… don’t be a lone wolf… Pack… Pack… Pack… I have a pack now… a real pack… I’ve always had a pack… in winter we must band together, protect one another… the pack survives._

  With trepidation, Brandon nodded his acceptance. He would do his duty… and maybe, just maybe he and Catelyn could find common cause. 

  “Before I departed Riverrun, Lord Hoster trusted me with a message to deliver to you.” Brandon said, reaching into his tunic to pull out the scroll he had been carrying for the past six weeks and delivering it into his father's hand. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, standing from his seat. 

  “Son,” his father called before he made it to the door. He turned back to make eye contact. His father gave him a half smile, which he found odd but didn’t mention it. “I’m glad that you are home,” was all his father added. Brandon nodded, not really sure how to reply to such a statement and then he turned and exited the hall. 

* * *

_**|The Ravens Agent|** _

* * *

Five days following the arrival of the heir of Winterfell, Howland decided  that it was time to gather all of the players in one place so that he could tell them all the truth.

  The castle had been busy with preparations for the upcoming ceremony, Lyanna and Bran had led the hunts, and Wintertown was again almost packed to bursting with smallfolk and some of the traveling clans from the mountains as well as those who had been making their way to the Northern capital in order to witness the fulfillment of a long awaited promise. 

  As the castle began to fill, Howland had been moved into the First Keep with Queen Lyanna and Ned as well as the rest of those who had traveled North from Dragonstone.

  The concept of calling Lyanna Queen was an odd one, but he had done what was asked of him and he ensured that Winter had a Queen. It would suit all of them better to get use to it now vs later on. 

_Missed opportunities have a habit of also leading to tragic endings…_ The whole point of him guiding Lyanna and Rhaegar was to subvert them from taking such a destructive approach. 

  His biggest issue of course, was how to go about telling everyone about what happened in the alternate timeline that had inspired Lord Bloodraven to make changes in _this_ timeline. For many of them, this would not be an easy topic to digest.

  Howland chose the Godswood, because, why not? Every other time that he had decided to share with them, the Old Gods had been present and considering the subject matter, it couldn't hurt to add the presence of a weirwood to back up his story. 

  The one person he worried over was his liege Lord, of course. The Lord Rickard was not known for his patience where matters such as these were involved, but he had sent his prayers off to the Gods in the days leading up to this moment and he was certain that now was the time. 

  Howland arrived before everyone else, and with nothing else to do while he waited, he climbed the branches of the weirwood and made himself comfortable. He would meditate until everyone was present. 

 As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait long before everyone started to filter into the sanctuary to join him. Ned, Ben and Ashara arrived as the first group. Then Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell, followed by Queen Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar and Aemon. Brandon and Lord Rickard were the last to arrive, no doubt because Brandon had gone straight to his father to begin shadowing him while he went about his duties as Lord of Winterfell. Now that Brandon was back home and wouldn’t be leaving again for quite some time, it made sense that the two of them would get right to business. Howland climbed down from his place in the tree and settled himself in front of the Weirwood so that they could begin. 

  Once everyone was situated, he turned his green eyes toward his liege Lord. “I’m sure that some of you may have questions, some more so than others and now that we are all here, I thought that we could clear the air.” Howland began. It would not do anyone any good if he just started at the beginning and made everyone repeat themselves. It would be much easier to allow the less informed of their group ask what questions they had and go from there. 

  The truth was, most of what needed to be said, had already been revealed in some manner or another to each of the marked. But he had yet to speak with Lord Rickard about such matters since his arrival, so it was to him that he asked his question. 

  Howland was aware that both the Queen and Lord Eddard had talked with their father at length in regards to their marks and of Harrenhal. Benjen had also mentioned to him that he’d had a conversation with Lord Rickard about the rituals and customs of the Free Folk that Howland had made sure were honored while Rhaegar was courting Lyanna. Now, all that was left for him to do was fill in the blanks. 

  Taking the bait, Rickard spoke. “Aye, I’ve some questions for you. Though I suppose they may seem rather basic considering the magnitude of the situation.” 

  Howland nodded, affirming that his Liege had his attention and Lord Rickard picked up immediately. “It seems to me that you went about this whole situation in a rather peculiar manner. If you knew that you had a _calling,_ why not reach out directly to myself or the prince? Why wait until after another offer for Lyanna’s hand had already been made before you acted?”

  They were fair questions, all of them. And in truth, they were also questions that were simple enough to answer. “As you are already aware of my _calling,_ I shall start there. Firstly, it came before the seasons changed and I had been summoned to the Isle of Faces. As I’m sure you know, My Lord, our people do not often leave the Neck, yet the Old Gods bid me go south. When I asked for clarity, I was given glimpses—, images, scents— winter roses, a silent wolf, brimstone and ash. I saw a silver dragon hatching in green flames, and I saw a three-eyed raven, falling stars— a red comet and a blue comet.” Howland said, pausing to look up to see the image that still painted the sky during the day and night time hours. The birth of Ice and Fire. When his gaze returned, he was happy to notice that his liege had also taken note of the lingering confirmation of the _Pacts_ fulfillment.

  When he had everyone’s attention once more, he started anew. “I saw all of that and more, which is why I gathered my belongings and I did what none of my ancestors have done for generations, I set off South of the Neck and braved the realms of men to answer the _call_ of the Old Gods. I was not blessed with the gift of sight, My Lord. Only the gift to speak with the trees and hear what they have to say. In order for me to know what they were trying to tell me, I had to go South, not North, at least not yet.”

  Howland went on to explain all that he had learned while he was a guest among the Greenmen. About the tapestry and how time moves fluidly, like a river but also that the Children had chosen a champion to witness not only the past but also the chance to glean images of the future based on various outcomes, as well as interact with current events. 

  He told them about the _Pact,_ and why it had to be fulfilled. “Winterfell was where your ancestors made their final stand eight-thousand years ago, though even then they understood that the Others would return and all that they had managed to do was buy time for humanity, buy time for the Lightbringers to be forged.”

  At this point, Lyanna interjected and filled her father in about the cave on Dragonstone, the images that they had all seen. She and Rhaegar spoke about the vision they shared on the night of their first wedding, and that the comets appeared after they consummated their union and sealed the pact.

  “It is no coincidence that they were joined into a single union, both being born amidst chaos, for the Prince it was the Wildfire that consumed his House and kin so that he could come roaring into the world in sadness and grief. For Her Grace, it was the winter storm that reached in and planted its seed within her heart. But you already know that Lyanna has this gift, do you not?”  Howland joined in once he saw an opportune time. 

  All eyes turned back to his Liege Lord and he nodded his confirmation. “Aye, your mother told me long ago that you had been kissed by the moon, that ice flowed through your veins and that winter was as much yours as our words were true. Winter is coming, and Lyanna will wield it. I use to think that she was just talking, but Lyanna never got sick, she never complained of being cold. And eventually she began predicting when winter was upon us as well as when it departed. She has a natural talent with the weirwood and the winter roses which are very temperamental in nature and require a special hand to tend them. And, as you all seem to notice, Winter has always agreed with her, her hair grows, her skin holds a warm glow, and she loves a winter blizzard the way the Dornish appreciate rain. My wife— Lyarra, made me promise that Lyanna fulfill the _Pact,_ and that is all I was trying to do.” His liege Lord looked forlorn, and Howland knew that a part of him blamed himself for almost failing to keep his oath. How ironic that the gods must have also heard this oath and made sure that it was fulfilled. 

  Howland went on to tell all of them about why he had been summoned to the Isle of Faces. How Bloodraven needed him to act as his agent, and how he had been given access to the tapestry that revealed the truths that have long been forgotten in the North. The truths that they all had to remember if they were going to survive the Long Night and the Battle for the Dawn. 

  Aemon told them all of the prophecy of Salt and Smoke, of how they all believed that Rhaegar had been the fulfillment of this promise, but how they now believed that it was his son, Aegon. 

  At Rickards insistence, Aemon told them all about the boy that would have gone on to be called Jon Snow by his Uncle Ned Stark, who brought him home in secret after the war that was started over a lie. 

  Of course, Ned had known most of this based on his dreams from their voyage North, and the Prince knew bits and pieces based off of their first conversation and another conversation that he also had with Aemon in regard to Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen, and with a heavy heart, he relayed to both Rickard and Brandon what he had seen. How it had been Brandon who rode to King's Landing upon hearing that Lyanna had been kidnapped by the Prince. How he had gone their screaming for Rhaegar to come out and die, and how Aerys had him thrown in the black cells and called for Lord Rickard to come and answer for his sons treason. 

  For the first time since Howland had known the wild wolf, he saw him look truly regretful of his quick temper and the results that it could have had in this timeline had the Gods not intervened. 

  Aemon spoke about the condition of the Wall, and how it is failing, the castles crumbling into ruin and how most were unfit to be manned. How another thirty years could see the end of the Watch entirely. The Vows were too costly for men who have committed no crime, but also necessary to the blood magic that is woven into the very foundation of the Wall. “Only death can pay for life, and when men stop giving their lives to guard the realms of men, the Wall won’t be able to stop the dead from marching South once more.” Aemon said cryptically. 

  Howland made mention of the crypts and how the lower level was empty, devoid of the Lords whom had been placed their when Winterfell was still little more than a crypt and the First Keep above it. He had known that the Queen was curious about this, but everything was about timing and this of course needed to be done as a whole. When he was certain that everyone was paying attention, he told the tale of the Thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and how he had fallen for a woman of unknown origin and it eventually led him to begin making sacrifices to the Great Other. 

  “When word finally reached Winterfell, the Stark who was ruling at the time, ‘Brandon the Breaker’ was roused from his seat to put an end to the reign of this “Nights King”, as he had styled himself. So, Brandon did just this, taking with him a host of Northmen and a secret weapon. North of the wall, Brandon had called upon the then King Beyond the Wall Joramun and this king did the same, only intending to attack the Night Fort from the North side of the Wall.”

  “What happened?” Benjen asked, voice full of wonder. Howland would have to be careful not to glorify the Night's Watch too much, or else Lord Rickard might still find himself short of a son. 

  Aemon chuckled, “Such a curious mind. The tale is one I’m familiar with. The Lord Commander was put down by Brandon the Breaker and Joramun, and his name was removed from the histories, never to be mentioned again. Brandon had blown the Horn of Winter, and awoke sleeping giants, who possessed the power to tear down the Wall some believe.” Aemon finished the telling of the story. 

  Benjen turned back to him with curious eyes. “Is that what you were going to say?” 

  Howland nodded, “Indeed, Brandon blew the Horn of Winter and woke sleeping giant's... though these giant's were not the Giant's that are known North of the Wall, they were the Giant legends of House Stark… the previous King's of Winter who were preserved in their granite tombs for when the time comes to fight the army of the dead once more.”

  He gave everyone a moment to process his words, for surely if anything he had ever said was a shock to them, this would be the most shocking. 

  “So where is this Horn now?” Lord Rickard managed to ask after a few moments. 

  “Beyond the Wall, away from Winterfell, where it can not do any damage if it is blown. It’s been lost now for thousands of years, but it will be returned. The Three-eyed Raven has been looking for it, it’s only a matter of time before it is located.” He responded automatically. 

  “Why would it be beyond the Wall rather than returned to Winterfell for safe keeping?” Lyanna asked. 

  “Because, Brandon broke the Horn when he blew it. The Horn was made to be used once, when the Battle for the Dawn is upon us, but when Brandon had chosen to use it, he had done so before it's time. In order to ensure that someone else didn’t make that same mistake in the future they chose to leave the Horn on the other side of the Hinge. This way it’s magic would remain ineffective.” He replied. 

  “Hinge?” Lyanna asked, following up her last question. 

 “Yes, my dear. The Wall is a hinge. It is one of the most powerful ley lines in the Known World. It is a gateway between _here_ and _there_ in a manner of speaking. There are actually quite a few of them. Though the Westernmost ley line is the Wall. It acts as a magical barrier, not allowing magic to intermingle from North to South.” Aemon interjected once more. 

  Lyanna scrunched her face up, clearly working over the information she had just learned. “You are clearly wondering about something, so out with it,” Brandon said, noticing his sisters expression as well. 

  “It’s just, if that is the case, how is Lord Bloodraven able to communicate from the Lands of Always Winter?” She responded.

  She was a clever one… and not for the first time was he reminded why she had been perfect for this path. “The Three-eyed Raven is not using a magic that must be sent over land and distance, he is sending his message through the roots and extensions of the Weirwood trees which are connected to every living thing. Including the Wall, every tree in the forest, whether it has a face or not, every Raven, who holds the memory of a singer long departed. The truth is, I don’t know how limitless the reach of the Last Greenseer truly is, but the Wall can’t block that which does not seek to pass above it or go through it.” Howland explained in as best a way as possible.

  After that they all settled back in while the questions came from all around. Luckily, Howland hadn’t been alone in this task, as Aemon had long since been a part of the Three-eyed Raven’s plans and he was able to shed light on a great many things in regards to the Long Night and the role that their marked ones would play. 

  Eventually Lord Rickard decided it was time to explain his motivations and his plans involving the North. The plans that himself and maester Walys have been working on for nearly a decade. He and the rest of them listened as his liege Lord told them all about his plans to reestablish a northern fleet that could aid them in protecting the western shore from ironborn reavers, and also help them with expanding trade. 

  “There is no doubt that Ironwood is superior to most materials that are used in building ships, and our forests are long since overdue to be cut back. Now with all this talk of the Long Night, and needing to bring Wildlings south, we have an even greater need to establish stronger trade routes with the South and Essos. There is no way that we could ever hope to feed our own people during winter, to add however many thousands more to this already weak economy would only cripple us further. Especially without any aid from the crown.” Lord Rickard explained. 

  Howland understood the reason that his liege Lord wanted to make so many changes, yet he also knew that the other Houses in the North would not be so ready to embrace these changes. However, the North had been stagnant for too long. There are ways to maintain the integrity of their customs while also utilizing the land to its fullest potential. 

  Lyanna jumped right in to the conversation and he was glad to see her contribute without fear of being unheard. “Firstly, we do not know when the Free Folk will be coming South of the Wall. But we all agree that this needs to happen?”  She clarified, waiting for everyone to weigh in. Once everyone nodded their assent she continued. 

  “Then what we should focus on is helping the North come to terms with the fact that we will be making this move at some point in the future. However, it makes no sense to debate on how we intend to integrate them, while there isn’t anyone here to represent them. Regardless, in order for us to allow a nomadic people into our Lands there will have to be an understanding in place. As for the northern lords, it’s high time that they be reminded of where our people come from and _why_ we built a Wall that stands seven-hundred feet high and stretches three-hundred miles long. And that it was not meant to keep out mankind. The Vows of the Night's Watch also need to be addressed, the men of the Watch need to be brought up to speed, and we need to figure out a better system that ensures that the Wall does not fall into further decline.” Lyanna ticked off the orders of business as if she had been taking notes. Clearly showing that she was more than prepared to settle into her role. Even Brandon and her Lord Father seemed impressed with her meticulous approach to the matter at hand. 

  “As for the development of the North, I agree that these things are for the better. There are secrets that the North has kept to itself and it's high time we got away from our isolationist mindsets. There are precious gems and ore in the Flint mountains. The Umbers have ore and they understand the terrain. The Karstarks understand the forests as much as House Forrester understands how to work Ironwood. Eventually, we could potentially bring timber south from the Haunted Forest. We would need to do so anyway in preparation for the Long Night.”

  Finally Lord Rickard spoke, “And where do you think these free folk will live once we grant them passage south of the Wall?” He asked skeptically. 

  “I think that they should be permitted to man the Wall. Not swear their vows to the Watch, but if they want to come south then they will have to defend their right to be here. The best way to do that is to aid us where we need them most. And from what I’ve gathered, there are nineteen castles along the wall and only three of them are in actual use. Furthermore, if the Wall required lives, I would write new vows for them to swear. Vows that would not be the same as the vows of criminals being forced to serve. But new vows. We have time, as I’ve said before, but from this day forward, any man who catches someone of the Free Folk South of the Wall, this should be the message. I would not see them executed if that means losing a potential ally in the war against the others. We need to find a way to get in contact with their leaders, a way to improve our relationships with the Free Folk, and this will start with us not calling them wildlings.” The last part was directed directly toward her father.

  The group of them went on to discuss many matters after that, the training of men, women and children from then on out. It was determined that every person old enough and capable enough, regardless of birth would be given proper training with sword, bow, spear and lance. The crowned prince promised to aide with gold and funding that would strengthen the North. He also mentioned that he had men coming from Essos to survey the soil on Dragonstone for precious metals and minerals and how he was willing to send them North to help do the same. Aemon made mention of a glass candle that was used in the Valyrian Freehold to communicate over vast distances and he confessed to having one that he had brought from the Citadel. This brought up the discussion of the Vault and some of the books that Rhaegar had uncovered detailing the customs of Valyrian architecture and the abilities of the fire mages, which prompted Aemon to mention the followers of R'hllor and how they are believed to be the descendants of the mages of Valyria and that once Rhaegar had the answer to the building techniques, he should reach out to the Red Temple in Volantis to bring one over to assist him with the spellwork. 

  The last topic for discussion had been Lyanna herself, and what her being named Queen of Winter meant in regards to actual power, and how said power would transfer in regards to the Line of Succession and Winterfell, as Brandon should be the one to inherit. 

  The prince used this opportunity to propose building a new Keep, somewhere in the North, possibly Sea Dragon Point or the Stony Shore, where a new port could be built, and trade could be established. He also suggested that House Stark remain the Wardens of the North and would continue on as they had since the time of conquest.

  As for Lyanna, she had a quite simplistic approach to her line of succession. “The North and the South will function as a United Kingdom just as we have for the past three centuries, however, the title only works because I embody winter, and as Howland informed me, our people follow the Old Way, and based on that, leaders are chosen because of their strength. For this reason my crown will only pass to the next person who possesses my abilities. Whether that person be of my line or of the line of my kin, it matters not. But the next Queen to wear my crown or claim my title must also have Winter flowing through her veins. Even if that means that the winter throne sits empty for a time.” 

  “What would happen in such an event?” Lord Rickard asked pragmatically. 

  “The North continues under regency, deferring to the Starks in Winterfell, and Sea Dragon Point or wherever we build a keep, would pass on to my descendants.” Lyanna answered. 

  “And what if the next to have your abilities is one of your children? Is the North expected to be ruled by House Targaryen on their own land as well?” Rickard followed up. The question, though not asked delicately was also not asked to offend, and Lyanna immediately understood this. 

  “Not at all,” she replied coolly, glancing over to the Prince, who nodded before she continued. “Rhaegar crowned me his equal. I’m not only the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell, I’m the Queen of Winter. I kept my name for two reasons, the first being that my House is now equal to his in status, the second is, that names are seldom inherited in Royal unions, so, my children will bear both Targaryen and Stark names. Whomever is my heir will place the Stark name before the Targaryen name, and Aegon will bear his Targaryen name before his Stark name as he will be the Heir to the Iron Throne.” 

  “And what duties will the Queen in the North be taking on in place of the Warden of the North?” Her brother, Brandon asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

  “I’m sure that your curiosity is only for the benefit of our people,” Lyanna quipped back, knowing that her brother was teasing. “I have a few weeks yet, before I’m expected to go South, so I will make sure I sit with Father more often to observe him at his tasks and together we can determine which tasks he will be turning over into my care. However, with me going South, many decisions will remain with Father. Regardless, I would like to take a look at the laws regarding marriage, taxes, trade, and the support of natural born children among all of the other matters we have discussed.” Lord Rickard nodded, clearly agreeing that this was a start as far as he was concerned, and they all finished their discussion shortly after.

  All and all Howland was pleased by the way everything had worked out. His job was to provide a gentle nudge, to make sure all of the information was available but to allow the players to make their own decisions. With everything on the table, Howland had fulfilled his task, and soon he would be heading home so that he too could begin to fulfill his part in this song.

* * *

_**|The Quiet Wolf|** _

* * *

  It was the night before the renewal ceremony for Lyanna and her mate and the castle was more full than Ned had ever seen it before. The Great Hall was near to bursting almost exceeding it's five-hundred person capacity and Winter Town was packed. So much so that some of the towns folk took to renting out their spare rooms and stables for the visiting lords and ladies. 

  His brother Brandon and Lyanna had managed quite a few hunts in the fortnight since he returned home and tonight, his father meant to present both Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar to his vassal Lords to reveal that not only are they to be married on the morrow, but also that Rhaegar crowned her and granted her the title of Queen of Winter, in addition to his plans to meet with certain lords individually to discuss the changes that they are looking to make in the coming years. 

  Brandon and their father had entered the Great Hall before himself, Lyanna and the rest of their party. In fact, he hadn’t been permitted to enter it in nearly a sennight while the household staff was busy preparing the space so that they could host all of the Northern Houses who were expected to be attending. 

  As fate would have it, nearly every House, including the Houses Mormont, Flint, Wull, Norrey, Karstark and Umber all showed up at the last moment and most unexpectedly at that, as none had anticipated them being able to make the journey. But Jorah Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island had explained how his wife, Lyanne, in addition to his aunt Maege and her two daughters, Dacy and Alysanne were all able to make it with the assistance of the Mountain Clans as their escorts. ‘The Flint’ had claimed that it was only possible because ‘The Rickard’ arranged for enough time to lapse before the ceremony took place. Ned could only chuckle at the manner in which his distant kin spoke, though his father seemed quite comfortable around the clansmen. 

  When the doors to the Great Hall finally swung open, Ned could hear his father calling out, “My Lords and Ladies, it's my pleasure to present to you my daughter, Lyanna and her mate, the Crowned Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen.”

  Upon hearing their names, both Lya and the prince started forward, his father's voice still calling out their titles as they entered the Hall. To either side of them were Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur, and gathered around them in a protective circle were Shadow, Storm, Torrh, Blizzard, and the wolf that Brandon had named Fury who led the way. It was a show of strength, Ned understood this and what better way to introduce Northern Royalty than with an honor guard of Direwolves flanking you? Had he not been a witness to the connection Lyanna shared with her pack over the past few moons, he likely would have been just as awed as he was positive their guests were at the moment. 

  After listening to his father announce Lyanna by her new and proper title, Ashara and he were announced next. Glancing over in his mates direction, he checked to make sure that she was truly ready to be introduced to the rest of the Northern Lords. True to her nature, Ashara awarded him with one of her dazzling smiles that cast everything in starlight and it instantly set him at ease without even trying.

  “Are you ready?” Ashara whispered, low enough so that only he could hear and he nodded, drawing her closer before following the same path that his sister had just taken hardly moments before. 

  To either side of the aisle, long rows of trestle tables were lined up to seat those in attendance, in addition to the tables that were placed upon the raised dais for his family and their honored guests. Upon the walls, the banners of every Northern House that is sworn to Winterfell were lined up, with a subtle change that Ned would have noticed anywhere. Behind the High seat, the banners of House Stark, House Targaryen and House Dayne we’re proudly on display. 

  Ned could understand why House Stark and House Targaryen would be featured, but when it came to the sigil of House Dayne, he had no idea how to justify such an honor. He, after all, was only the second child of their father, not even the heir to Winterfell and a small part of him wondered if it wouldn’t have been more appropriate to fly the banner of House Tully, as Lady Catelyn would eventually become the Lady of the North, not Ashara, regardless of how lovely the thought was. 

  He was forced to halt his musings as they approached their seats and Ned ushered Ashara over to where he knew that they would be seated. In fact, the only difference in their seating arrangements was Lyanna who stood poised to sit upon the Throne of Winter just as soon as their father was finished with his announcement. Ned tensed in anticipation, the moments felt like they stretched on into eternity. 

  When the pounding of his heart finally calmed and the white noise in his head finally died down, he heard his father's words. “Today we all gather to welcome each of you into our home to bare witness to the long awaited union between Houses Targaryen and Stark, for which I can honestly say I’m glad of. Too long has the North functioned separately from the South, for too long have we been viewed as outsiders in a land that we have lived on for more than twelve-thousand years!” His father proclaimed, earning some loud cheers from the Lords Umber and Karstark among many others. 

  “You all know that my Lyanna is special, her Lady Mother made no secret of it.” His father continued... 

 There was a round of “Ayes,” coming from the crowd, and even some low grumbling among them, but nothing to concern themselves over. Lyanna had always been popular amongst their people, no doubt those voicing their displeasure, were also the same ones who held designs on her themselves or had at some point made overtures to his father for her hand, only to have their interests dismissed. 

  “Isn’t the Prince already married, My Lord?” Someone called out from the back of the Hall in a cold and emotionless tone. Ned couldn't place it, but his curiosity was sated when his father next spoke.

  “Lord Roose, thank you for joining us, it is an honor to host you. However, I would ask that you hold your questions until I’ve finished speaking.” His father chastised, using his _Lords_ voice. Though his words were not spoken unkindly, they left little room for opposition. When the Hall settled once more, his father glanced back toward the table and nodded for Lyanna to go ahead and sit, so that the rest of the Hall would follow suit and they could eventually begin the feast.

  Lyanna lifted her glass from the table, and the room went deathly silent. “Please, My Lords, I am sure that many of you have questions and nothing would please us more than to answer whatever we can. Let us celebrate this joyous occasion, and open the floor up for conversation.” She said with grace, before sitting down upon the Winter Throne. Once she was in place, the prince followed, and eventually the entire room was seated, leaving only his father to speak once more. 

  Ned listened while his father laid out the truth surrounding Lyanna and Rhaegar’s union in as many details as possible. His father told the room about the Pact that was made between Jacaerys Velaryon and their ancestor Cregan Stark, at the beginning of the Dance. He listened as his father reminded them of the time of Conquest, and the real reason that Torrhen Stark chose to bend the knee rather than meet the Targaryen conquerors in combat. 

  When the topic of the Long Night was brought up, many Lords scoffed at the idea that the Others would return, namely, House Manderly whose own roots were firmly planted in the South and still possessed the highest concentration of Andal blood in the whole of the North. 

  Once more the question of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia was raised and his good-brother took it upon himself to engage his father's bannermen. “If it would please you, I would like the chance to answer your questions in regards to the Princess Elia and our daughter Princess Rhaenys. Firstly, I think that it’s important for all of you to know that the only wife I have is Lyanna. And while I understand that this seems confusing to most of you, the answer and solution is quite simple.” 

  Lyanna stood and closed her hand around the hand of her mates, the two of them standing in solidarity. “How many of you remember the day I was born? Or the day that my Lady Mother and Lord Father presented me to all of you? How many of you remember the first time I defied my father by picking up a training sword, or riding side-saddle? How many of you remember my victory in the races at Harrenhal, or how quite a few of you plucked me from my saddle to help me celebrate my win? How many times have each of you watched me as I grew from a small pup to the woman I am now, waiting for some unknown destiny to reveal itself to me? And how many of you are aware of my talent for predicting the changing of the seasons?” Her questions came right on the heels of the previous, but Ned could see that Lyanna was trying to make them understand that what she had to say was bigger than a willful decision, or their father's Southron ambitions. Many of them responded affirmatively, acknowledging all that Lyanna had asked, while others remained silent. Lyanna really hadn’t cared at all for validation, she was only interested in making a point. 

  “It’s true, all of what my mother claimed. All of what you all have been whispering about since I have been old enough to walk. The Gods have chosen me to fulfill a promise that is older than these very stones. And they chose Prince Rhaegar to walk this path alongside me.” As she explained, Ned noticed his good-brother preparing to expose his mark, and Lyanna was prepared to do the same. 

  “The Gods have been making their will known for eons, sometimes more clearly than others, but none of us here are strangers to the Gods Mark and how it’s shaped our culture. Every one of you in this room know the history of the North, of the conquest of this territory following the Long Night. You all know of King Edric Stark and Melantha Blackwood of Sea Dragon Point, you know of Rickard Stark, the son of King Jon Stark and Meera Reed of the Neck and let us not forget Cregan Stark and Black Aly among the many other documented examples.” Lyanna looked over toward her mate once more and then over to himself and Ashara before she continued. 

  His sister wanted their support, and while he was perfectly happy to stand at her side, he had hoped, perhaps foolishly that she wouldn’t call attention to him and Ashara. Ned turned toward his wife but she was already standing. He honestly should have known better, Lyanna and Ashara are more similar than one would think, given the different atmospheres that they grew up in. As always, the two of them were a solid unit in almost everything and he was left to play catch up. 

  “Last year, on the day that the White Raven arrived announcing winter, I made my way to our family’s Godswood to make Winters offering, the very same offering I make every time the Raven arrives, whether I agree with the Citadels findings or not. As always, I asked the Old Gods to provide for our people during Winter, to keep a fire in our hearth and our father's inside our homes. I prayed for Ned, who, until recently was too far from home and a Heart Tree, and I asked the Gods to illuminate my path. The following morning the four of us awoke to find that the Gods have marked us.” His sister went on to explain, revealing her mark in the process. 

  What followed was the loud chorus of voices that were too innumerable to pinpoint and it was futile to attempt speaking over the rising voices within the Hall. Lyanna returned to her seat with a knowing smile, she was no stranger to the mannerisms of her people, and she knew that eventually they would settle, and they did.

  The rest of the evening was spent listening to his father, sister and good-brother interact with various Lords and Ladies, answering their questions and discussing their marks. There was quite a bit of commentary about the wolves, some of the Lords even boasting that they had called her wolf blood before anyone else. 

  There had also been quite a bit of interest in himself and Ashara, but she commanded the room with grace. If she had been worried about whether or not the Northern Lords would accept her, he could see no trace of that. In fact, Ned was sure that their mark was the only thing stopping some of the men present from attempting to whisk her away from him. But to his surprise and eventual satisfaction, Lyanna had convinced their father to allow the wolves to stay inside the Great Hall during the feast and as such, Storm stayed beside Ashara the entire night. 

  Many invitations were extended to the Lords present to speak with Lyanna, Rhaegar, Brandon and his father individually over the days to come, and Ned knew that some of it would pertain to the situation in the South, the rest would pertain to the plans that Lyanna and his father were considering. Ned understood that the most important thing was the preparation of the North for the Long Winter. However, they also had an obligation to their people to find and educate any other people who share gifts similar to Lyanna or Howland. People who can warg or skin-change, people who can make castles disappear and reappear, or speak to trees and sing the songs of the earth. 

  The more that Ned learned about their marks, and the more he learned about what’s coming, he became more sure that this was the only way. In fact, he and Ashara had stayed up late into the night on many occasions talking about such things. Comparing his dreams to hers and even Lyanna’s, or at least the ones that Lya had shared about the Long Night and the battle in the snow. About how she rode into battle on the back of a direwolf and of how she had seen images of Moat Cailin and Harrenhal being restored. They spoke of how the Citadel had been attempting to suppress the knowledge of magic and discredit those who they believed to be in possession of such gifts by calling them mad or abominations against the Gods. But Ned was no fool, if people possessed such gifts, it was because the Gods willed them to and having them prepared to support his sister and the rest of the realm in whatever capacity could only strengthen them in the years to come as well as during the real war. 

  By the time the feast was over, there had been no shortage of proclamations in favor of Lyanna as their queen, in fact, once the truth of their marks was revealed, and Lyanna confirmed that she was bonded to Shadow and by extension Shadow’s pack, the North seemed ready to march on King's Landing to demand their independence. It was then that Ned knew that there was much work to do before Lyanna actually took up the role. Not because she couldn’t handle the responsibility of ruling a realm that she had already been managing these past eight years alongside their father, but because he knew that Lyanna had no intention to separate the North from the South. Quite the opposite in fact, she wanted to further unify North and South. So when she announced that she would not be assuming her role until after Rhaegar sat the Iron Throne, many wanted to know why. He didn’t stay long after that, knowing that Lyanna and Rhaegar would be departing for their rooms before too long as well. 

  Now inside their chambers, Ned quickly moved to pull Ash into his arms and claim her lips. “I’ve wanted to do this all night.” He found himself confessing. 

  Ashara wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck and smiled. “I suppose this has nothing to do with the fact that some of your father's bannermen were quite friendly?” She  replied teasingly. 

  In spite of himself, Ned frowned. “It’s silly I know, but you’re you, and I’m— well, I’m just me.”

  “Stop that!” Ashara scolded. “You are perfect and everything none of them could ever hope to be, and you’re mine. Now stop pouting over things that matter not, I’ve been up all day, tending to one task after another, and your babe and I just want you to hold us.”

  At that, Ned instantly felt all the apprehension and worry and yes, even the jealousy, drain right out of him. He pulled Ashara to him and kissed her once more before he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to their bed-chambers. Once inside, he helped Ash out of her gown, not wanting to waste another moment fussing with her. She was right afterall, no amount of admiring looks could change the fact that they were a bonded pair who were expecting a babe of their own. Damn anyone who thought to stand between them. In turn, Ashara helped him out of his doublet and breeches and then she was pulling him by the hand toward their bed.

  It felt like yesterday when Ashara revealed to him that she was with child, yet now there was no mistaking it. Her abdomen had started swelling a fortnight past, though nothing particularly noteworthy. Regardless, Ned had no issue finding and pointing out the small changes, and Ashara had no issue allowing him access to their babe. 

  On more than one occasion, Ashara allowed him to lay with his head pressed to her stomach, murmuring sweet nothings to both of them. But tonight he needed something more from her and Ash knew it. 

  She kissed him sensually. and for the life of him, he couldn’t move a muscle, it was as if her kisses turned him into living stone, though her lips were warm and soft upon his own. 

  Unbidden, he moaned breathily against her lips, and pulled her closer. “Gods Ash, don’t stop. I need you so badly...” He husked, aware that she could feel his body trembling as he held her close. When she kissed him once more, her mouth lingered a bit longer.

  Ned inhaled deeply, taking in her unique scent which reminded him of the hot Dornish sun, honey and wildflowers. Her scent was more intoxicating than any of the ale he had consumed throughout the feast, and if she allowed him to, he could lose himself in her kisses entirely.

  Ashara growled against his mouth, clearly put out by something he was doing, or had failed to do, so he pulled back. “Have I hurt you?” Ned asked sheepishly. 

  “No, not at all.” Ash returned, a coy smile forming. “Though I wonder, how long you’re going to make me wait to be properly mussed up by you?” She said, pushing him playfully toward their bed.

  Before he fell backward, he pulled her in closer so that she was laying atop of him. His hands had a mind of their own, generously roaming over the contours of her body. Ashara bit and nibbled on his chin and collar bone, stirring him into action. 

  He gripped her hips and squeezed, maybe a bit too hard, but his mate moaned her pleasure as her core ghosted over his hardening length, and instinctively he pulled her closer. He felt like a man starved, after being forced to sit among his father's bannermen for hours on end, forced to hold his tongue when some were consciously too forward in their gawking of his mate. 

  The wolf within him howled at the thought of another man seeing her like this, raged at the tamed beast that he had allowed himself to become during his time away from his pack. 

  “I want you.” His words were spoken without restraint.

  He felt Ashara smile before she responded. “You have me,” and then her lips were fused to his once more. She nipped at his lower lip, seeking passage and he readily complied. Their tongues met in a dance, pushing and stroking against one another and he could taste the mint from her tea still lingering on her tongue. 

  Without conscious thought, one hand moved over her rib cage until he found the swell of her breast. His thumb errantly grazed over her tightening peaks, eliciting a breathy moan which caused Ashara to press herself further into his palm, chasing relief. One of her own hands moved downward, reaching between them to grasp at his engorged cock. 

  “Gods Ash,” Ned grit out through clenched teeth, trying and failing beautifully to maintain control of his reactions. 

  “Don’t hide yourself from me, my wolf. Show me what you need from me, take what is already yours.” Ashara encouraged him. Her honeyed words arousing a part of him that he still, at times, felt unsure of. 

  Throwing caution to the wind, Ned let himself go. Opening himself up to all of the feelings that he has kept locked away, determined to not keep anything from Ashara. Even if it was jealousy that was pushing him into action. 

  That night, Ned intended to love his mate with everything he was, he would worship her with his mouth and his hands, drinking all of her in, as if he would never be able to  get enough. The truth was that he would forever be a man starving for Ashara. 

  Ned knew what she liked and where to touch her from all the many nights that they lay abed, tangled in the sheets and furs. But tonight he explored her body all the same, as if this was his maiden voyage. 

  When his lips weren’t fused to her own, they were attached to her breasts or her cunt. He placed opened mouth kisses on her pulse point, just below her ear before grazing his teeth over her collarbone and her hips and inner thighs. By the time he reached her core, he found her soaked and aching. 

  “Ned, I need to feel you,” Ashara murmured wantonly, and with those words, all the rest of the world fell away and he was hard pressed to be anywhere other than buried deeply within her heat. 

  He gave her no reason to complain. With expert movements, he brought his hands around her and gripped the globes of her ass. Securing his hold, before he flipped them so that she was now lying beneath him. 

  She was a vision straight out of  his dreams, her bronzed Dornish skin was flushed, her chest heaving with anticipation, desire clearly reflecting in her eyes. Ned pressed forward, intent on claiming her mouth and her body in the same moment.

  Ashara opened her legs wider to accommodate his position, and he thought that mayhap they were truly fashioned for one another after all as he felt himself slide into her tight heat with no effort from either of them. As if his body and her body were made to be connected in such a manner. 

  The moment the tip of his cock kissed her womb, he felt himself let out a sigh of contentment that he hadn’t realized that he was holding back. 

  Ashara moved beneath him, rocking her hips upward to accommodate him further, her hands going around his back to urge him to move.

   _Gods how he loved this perfect woman..._

  He thrust into her passionately, his grey eyes locked into her violet. Every time his hips met her pelvis, Ashara would find another way to announce her pleasure. He was sure that his back would be in ribbons by the morning, but right now it mattered little. 

  Her hands stroked through his thick chestnut locks and then down his shoulder blades. She caressed the ridges of muscle that he had gained over the many years since he had begun training with a sword, and even more so in the months that he had been training with both his good-brothers. Ashara’s fingers danced over the ridges of his stomach and then settled on his hips as she urged him deeper. 

  His hands moved of their own volition, hooking at the back of her knees, he positioned them so that she was now more on her side than she was on her back and then he thrust again, leaving no space between the two of them. 

  There was an uncontrollable need to mark his mate with his scent, a warning to anyone else that Ashara was his and that she carried his young. Even if the less possessive part of him reminded him of how irrational these thoughts were. 

  Ashara must have felt this because she continued to urge him on. His rhythm was punishing, chest slick with sweat, but he couldn’t stop. 

  “More... Give me more.” Ashara purred sultrily, that Dornish accent of hers making a bold appearance and that only served to encourage him further.

  Taking initiative, he brought one hand around and slid it between her parted thighs, quickly parting her folds and teasing her tiny pearl, eliciting more moans of encouragement from his wife.

  He had wanted to last inside of her forever, to lose himself in the comfortable embrace of her tight heat, but just as soon as he felt the tightening of his wife’s cunt around his cock, the familiar tightening in his sack soon followed and his knees involuntarily grew weak, so he quickened his pace and soon they were tumbling over the edge together. 

  When they were finally able to form conscious thoughts, Ashara pulled him down, so that they were laying side by side and then she kissed him once more, this one more tender than the ones they had just shared, never breaking eye contact.

  “I am yours, and you are mine. Never forget that.” Ashara promised and all Ned could do was nod. 

  “Aye, I won’t.” He said eventually. 

  Taking a deep breath, he pulled Ashara into his side and wrapped his arms lovingly around her waist. Resting his head between her neck and shoulder.

  “We’ll be going to Starfall soon…” he wasn't sure why he brought it up, but he just wasn’t ready for her to stop speaking. 

  In front of him, Ned could feel her smile. “Not too soon, I don’t mean to leave Elia before the babe comes.”

  Ned chuckled...  _as if he could ever forget._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *While I understand that I’ve thrown a wrench into the story line, it’s kinda fun and also plausible in my opinion. Though there could be a million possibilities as to who she really is… I’ll say no more. 
> 
> *A note about the Daella-Dayne connection. It might not be canon, but it is not impossible. But I acknowledge openly that this was a personal fabrication. The comment about her singing was canon based as was the comment about the Love potion and the indifference of both Daella and Aegon V to their match. Those things can be verified. And while Daella was married and did eventually have children of her own as was remarked in AFFC we do not know who she married and or who her children were. 
> 
>  
> 
> *Also, the bit about Alysanne and Cregan adopting Alys and Sarra and them being twins is also not canon, just writers fabrication of facts that can suit my purposes for this particular story. Don’t bite my head off.
> 
> *Both Bran and Ned have familiars named Storm- Brandon’s is his horse. Ned’s is his Direwolf. Brandon will have a wolf that is quite large, mostly grey with black markings. One grey and one blue eye… name: Fury.
> 
> I realize that I’m doing a bunch of things that seem crazy... declaring Lyanna as Queen of Winter and wolves while Aerys sits the throne... it’s crazy I know! But I see the Northern people quite similarly to the Dothraki. They follow strength, while bloodline matters, they would never follow someone who they consider weak. And with Lyanna possessing a superpack of Direwolves... well she’s certainly seen as possessing of strength. Hopefully y’all will give me the chance to further explain before biting my head off. 
> 
> Anyway... what are your thoughts about the chapter? 
> 
> First Ned and Ashara scene... 😉 don’t get conformable with that, as this is mainly an R+L Fiction. But I thought it would be nice to give you something that wasn’t specifically all Rhaegar and Lya. 
> 
> I realize now that I really like writing Brandon. His flippant attitude is so easy to write. What are your thoughts? Does his character portray as authentic? It’s so hard with characters we know next to nothing about. 
> 
> Anyway! I hope you enjoyed the update, be sure to let me know your thoughts.


	26. A Pact Complete. Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the continuation of The Call of the Pack...  
> Rhaegar prepares for the execution.  
> Lyanna prepares for the ceremony,  
> And Rickard officiates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 will take a little time to post, but I have it laid out and I just need to finish it.

* * *

#### | ** _Rhaegar_** **|**

* * *

After a long night in the Great Hall with the Northern Lords, Rhaegar and Lyanna retired to their Keep. All and all, everything had gone over quite well, and he was genuinely pleased with the amount of support that he and his mate received, not only in making him Regent until his father's death or abdication, but also in his crowning of Lyanna as Queen of Winter. 

  After seeing how they had celebrated her win at Harrenhal, Rhaegar had known that they loved her fiercely, but to have her named as their Queen seemed to have awoken something in them that hasn’t been seen in almost three centuries. 

  There had been cheers and proclamations, “The Wolf Queen!” they called her, “The Blue Rose of the North!” And “The She-Wolf!” To him, Lyanna was all that and more, not to mention she was the mother of his children. His wife was singular, she was a light in the darkness to him, and he would cross continents, slay giant's, tame dragons and build her castles made of glass if that is what she required of him. He would do all that and more just for the chance to see her smile. And he had little doubt in him that these hardened men of the North would do the same in his place. 

  “How are you doing?” Lyanna’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. She was laying in bed beside him, moonlight filtering through the windows, casting her silhouette in an ethereal glow. She was almost four moons pregnant based on their math and her belly had begun to swell. He constantly found himself distracted when they were like this together, the four of them. 

  He let out a long breath, “Honestly, I am ready to get this over with, but it’s a lot to take in. I’ve never cared for violence, and I understand that violence is a part of the world we live in, but I wanted to be different than other men.” 

  Walys execution was on the morrow, and he had requested to carry out the sentence himself, rather than allow his good-father or good-brothers to do it. The North respected strength not birthright, at least not his at any rate. If he was to earn their respect, he would have to woo them in the same manner he wooed Lyanna. He had to embrace her as she was, as well as her customs and traditions. Just as he would have to embrace the people of the North and show them that he was not just another man seeking obeisance from his subjects. That he would not be another King who couldn’t understand what it meant to take a man's life with his own hand, that he would understand the responsibility of having the power to decide a man's fate. That as a King he would never sit easy on his throne, and that he understood that being King didn’t mean his subjects were his servants. It meant that he was meant to serve his subjects, and Rhaegar meant to do all of these things, he meant to help unite all people so that when it was time for his son to step into his shoes, his task wouldn’t be as arduous and taxing as all of the king's who had come before him. His son wouldn’t be inheriting a legacy built on madness and cruelty. Rhaegar was determined to make sure that Aegon would be inheriting a throne that wasn’t cursed by unworthy Kings. 

  Lyanna hummed. “I don’t think it’s meant to be easy, my love. But it is the right thing to do, he can’t be allowed to take the Black, he’s done too much and we can’t be sure he wouldn’t attempt to reach out to the Citadel once all his past crimes are washed away by his sworn oath to the Night's Watch. You don’t have to do this…” she said, trying to console him. 

  “I do have to do this, and I will do it, no matter whether or not this will be the first life I take. I’m no fool Lyanna, this situation with Robert and Tywin could very well end up in a war. And I don’t know if I can reasonably condemn my cousin for his infatuation. He was manipulated by Walys just as much as your father or you were in this. If I don’t take Walys head, I’m not worthy to sit any throne, whether it be of Iron or Weirwood.” He responded, getting down to the truth of the matter. He had always believed that if he had to take a man’s life, it would be on a battlefield, in a life or death situation, not in the Godswood of his wife’s ancestral home. 

  Lyanna reached out and cupped his cheek, rubbing a thumb across the bone just under his eye, and just like that, all of the anxiety that he had been feeling fled from him. Her cooling touch eased the inferno that had been consuming him. “You are worthy, you will be the most worthy king to sit the throne in generations. And as for my people, our people, they will see that you are strong enough to lead them. How couldn't you be? The gods chose you for me and me for you, why? So that together we could forge the lightbringers. And you know that they can only be forged by something of equal or greater power than itself… that is us… our blades will end the long night and bring about an eternal spring. That is what the prophecy says, and nothing _that_ strong can come from something considered weak.” She murmured to him reassuringly.

  “It doesn’t matter that you’ve never taken a life before. What matters is that this life will be claimed through Northern Justice, and delivered by a Southern King. The men of the North will see you as I see you. A King and a Consort, one willing to live with honor, and rule with a firm and Just Hand. We don’t care for empty gestures, we don’t care for gold and jewels, or any of those things that the Southern kingdoms fuss over. They care for loyalty, honor, justice, and strength. You are strong… stronger than you know. And you won me; or else I wouldn’t be lying here beside you almost four moons gone, carrying your babes inside me.” She added, sitting up so that she could capture his lips with her own. 

  Her touch was soft and sweet, and within moments, all of the stress and anxiety he was feeling evaporated like mist. Rhaegar found his hands moving to circle around her waist to pull her closer. She was alive and warm, and she was his, she was the reason that they were here, the reason that his mother's sacrifices had not been in vain. And it all seemed silly that he would worry over one traitor when his task was so much bigger than Walys treason. Lyanna was his anchor, and right now, she was the only thing that kept him from drifting off course. 

   Normally, their love making was like a raging inferno, but this time it was different. Rhaegar relaxed while Lyanna’s cooling fire washed over him. He watched as she sat up and removed her shift, before pulling his own shirt over his head, and discarding it. When she was satisfied, she laid back down beside him and she pulled him close, so close that they were almost one person. With his head resting upon her breast, and Lyanna’s petite hands massaging his scalp. Rhaegar found himself feeling more content than he had in the time since he had decided to swing the sword himself. 

  This brand of love making was not the physical kind, though a part of him knew she would allow him to lose himself in her if that is what he needed. But Rhaegar knew, in that moment, what he truly needed, was a reminder of why these trials and tribulations were necessary. And seeing Lyanna here, swelling with his babes, using her Ice to temper him, was everything he needed and more. 

  Somehow, after laying there beside her, he managed to fall into a fitful rest. His dreams had not been filled with images of his children, nor had Lyanna been with him, instead all he knew was heat, all he could feel was the flames and an impulse to embrace them. 

He saw flashes of children playing in the gardens of the Palace that once was Summerhall. He heard chanting, and a voice urging him to wake the dragon. He heard the screams of a woman and the heat of the flames grow hotter. _Embrace the fire…_ the images were pulsing around him in waves… _seven eggs for the Seven Gods…_ _wake the dragon… men in robes stood side by side chanting strange incantations over the eggs...Fire can not harm a dragon… more screams…_ and then there was blackness for a moment and then blinding light.

  Rhaegar awoke with a start. Lyanna had moved away from him during the night and was splayed out on the bed beside him. Her hair was tangled, and she was covered in a light sheen of perspiration. He took stock of his environment, Shadow was on the floor by the door watching him with knowing silver eyes. The sun was still low in the sky, and it was hardly light outside, so Rhaegar knew it was still early. Nevertheless, he could still hear the castle as it came to life. 

  This had not been his first dream of this nature, they had begun after Lyanna revealed that they were expecting. He felt like it had become something his dragon could relate to... _family_... or at the very least, the fierce need to protect ones hatchlings. As a result, his dragon dreams had become more frequent and more vivid.

  Silverwing was still moving, nearly every time he saw through her eyes, but twice now he had shared her thoughts, he could sense her desire to find a nest, and to bond. But he still had no success in summoning her to him. He had seen flashes of images, things she had been trying to show him, flying without a rider, and then flying with _her_. Rhaegar understood that she was showing him Alysanne, and she wanted him to understand what it felt like to have someone who you could trust implicitly. He knew that what Silverwing wanted was to be able to trust in him. And a part of him was disheartened in the fact that although his birth had woken her, she still hadn’t found that type of faith in him. 

  Sitting up, Rhaegar realized that he was drenched in perspiration, only more so than Lyanna.

   _No wonder she moved away from me…_  

  Aemon had been telling him for weeks that he needed to wake the dragon, but he still wasn’t sure what that meant, or how he was supposed to do such a thing. But now, sitting here in his chambers in the earliest hours of the morning, covered in perspiration that he could only describe as dragon dew… he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what his uncle had been alluding to.

  His eyes went to the hearth, where the fires still burned, albeit low. The seven eggs that they were now in possession of were situated upon a metal device that the castle smith had created upon Lyanna’s insistence. It was similar to a table, with seven medium sized holes or “cradles” molded onto the surface. Each egg sat upright within each individual cradle to allow the flames to wash over them without smothering the hearths fire entirely. The fire itself, stayed lit throughout the day upon Lyanna’s insistence. 

  Not wanting to wake her, Rhaegar slowly extracted himself from their bed and slipped on his pants before padding across their chambers to sit before the fire. There were a million things that he could be doing this early in the morning, like studying the book that he had found inside the vault on metalwork, which he was fairly certain would reveal the secret he had been looking for in regards to Valyrian Steel. But somehow, the fire was calling to him, as were the eggs. On instinct, he added a few more logs into the fire, making sure that it continued to burn. 

 _Fire and Blood to wake the dragon... Fire and Blood to forge... Fire and Blood to build._ That is what Lord Bloodraven said...

  Without so much as another thought, Rhaegar reached forward and grabbed his dagger off the table by the hearth and pressed the sharp edge to his offering line. When his blood was running in earnest, he thrust his hand into the flames and ran his bloodied palm over the eggs, allowing it to coat the shells and drip onto the burning embers below. The flames licked and kissed his flesh, but just as before, the kiss of the fire did not burn him. 

  There was no question in his mind whether or not these eggs would hatch, even Lyanna felt the warmth within each shell, though the one that had been sent with his Uncle Aemon was much hotter in his opinion. But these eggs were not his… Rhaegar could feel a kinship to them, but that was all he could feel. If and when they hatch, it wouldn’t be for him, however, that would not stop him from preparing them for his children or his current and future siblings. 

  Rhaegar couldn't say how long he had been sitting there, but eventually he heard Lyanna stir in bed, and then the sound of her feet softly crossing the distance between them. When he looked up, she was standing beside him, her cheeks flushed from sleep, looking every inch a winter goddess. 

  He, of course had not cared for comfort when he had decided to come sit by the hearth, so she found him sitting cross legged on the floor. Rhaegar opened his arms and invited her to sit with him, something Lyanna readily agreed to. 

  “Fair morning,” he said, greeting her. 

  Lyanna smiled warmly, “And to you as well, have you been awake long?” She returned.

  Rhaegar glanced toward the window, the sky was much lighter, the yard had also come alive some more, and he could smell the food being prepared in the kitchens wafting across the yard. “An hour or so, I would think.”

  Lyanna hummed in understanding, snuggling against his chest. “I had the strangest dreams.” She said once she found her spot. 

  “You too?” He asked noncommittally, his mind still processing his own dreams. 

  “Mmm, I was burning.” Lyanna murmured against his chest.

  Rhaegar drew back, horrified by what she had just confessed. “You were burning? Lyanna, that isn’t funny.” He warned. 

  She looked up, knitting her brows together. “I wasn’t attempting humor… I was burning Rhaegar.” Lyanna’s tone had no hint of levity in it. 

   _What was he supposed to do with such a confession? How was he supposed to shield her from something like that? And what did she mean she was burning?_

  “I’m not sure how to respond,” he confessed quietly.

  “Not everything I share with you requires a response Rhaegar, sometimes I just feel like sharing with you.” Lyanna replied, though he could hear the love in her tone. 

  “I know, but when you tell me that you dream of burning, my first instinct is to panic, you know how my father can be, you know how he chooses to deal with those he deems traitors.” He found himself admitting. 

  Lyanna looked up into his eyes and nodded. “I’m aware, but you just assumed I meant I was being tortured, but I was not dying. I was simply burning… the way that you’re burning right now.” 

  He was confused, and it must have shown. “Yes, while in my dreams there were actual flames… I knew that I was safe… the heat was familiar, comforting, nourishing even. The same heat I feel when I’m in your arms… you are the Fire Rhaegar.” Lyanna said, attempting to cast his fears aside.

  Suddenly it occurred to him how far she had moved away from him during the night.

  “Is that why you were so far away when I woke up?” Rhaegar asked her.

  “I couldn’t say, though, I just woke up because I felt cold, so mayhap?” Lyanna said, nuzzling back into his chest.

  Rhaegar wrapped his arms around his wife’s small frame, and pulled her a bit closer to him. She had come wrapped in a sheet and it occurred to him that beneath that sheet she was still as naked as her first name day. The beast within him stirred, wanting to pounce, to lose himself inside her heat, to merge them back into a single entity, even if for only a moment or two, but the man in him reminded him that today would be a long day and his mate would have many hurdles to overcome in the coming hours. So, with a bit of practiced restraint, he allowed himself to relax with her, in the cradle of his arms for a few moments longer, knowing that they would soon have to prepare for their day. The Lords of the North were no doubt expecting them both to break their fast with them before the execution at midday, so he made the decision to take up as much of Lyanna’s time as he could before they would be forced to leave the quiet tranquility of their chambers. 

  Eventually the two of them managed to dress and break their fast in the Great Hall before returning to their chambers. Rhaegar had many matters to attend before the execution at midday. Namely, he needed to write his father.

  With Aemon staying, he’d sent word to Elia for Marwyn to make his way North to assist his uncle but also, so that Lyanna, Arthur, Oswell, Ash, Ned and himself could use the Gate to return to Dragonstone without too many questions being raised. 

  He had been tempted many times over the past weeks to use the Gate, if he were being honest. But no matter what, he just couldn’t risk it, knowing that Marwyn was still on the island. 

  Now though, things were different. Based on the information he had learned through Lyanna’s scouting with Sky and Elia’s ravens, they now knew that Marwyn had departed Dragonstone a little less than a sennight prior, on a ship bound for White Harbor. He expected that the maester should be in Winterfell within the moon. Perfect timing to “just miss” them in passing.

  He also had the responsibility of informing his father about the trial and the decision to execute Walys. Not that he had any regret in his decision, Rhaegar simply worried what effect this situation would have on his father's already paranoid psyche. The whole truth could prove problematic for a number of reasons, mostly because having his father declare war against House Hightower, House Lannister and the Citadel while he was attempting to stage a Great Council to discuss Forced Abdication, could only serve to stretch the realm more thinly, not to mention declaring war on the Citadel could turn the rest of the Reach against the crown.

  He needed to keep his father apprised of the situation, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling that this would be better done in person rather than via raven or messenger. 

  In the end, Rhaegar had chose to write and inform the King about his decision to execute vs exile to the Wall. He promised that more information as well as evidence against the accused would be presented upon his arrival. He also sent an official request to the King to pardon their uncle Aemon from the Watch and allow him to serve as the maester in Winterfell as a means to keep an eye on the Northerners, which had been Aemon’s idea. Even though that was the furthest thing from the truth, Rhaegar understood that this would no doubt please his father. 

  Under any other circumstances, there would be no way that his father would permit the _“blood of the dragon”_ to serve someone not of their blood. The only reason Aemon hadn’t been named Grand Maester during his father's reign was due to his oath to the Nights Watch. Without it, the only thing that would keep his father from calling him south would be if he were of better use somewhere else.

  Like with every other matter that he dreaded broaching, but needed his father's cooperation in order to pull off, he knew that the only way to get his father to agree was to flatter him into believing that he would be the one to benefit the most—a talent Rhaegar had learned to develop early on. Having Lyanna around was also an added bonus in this department.

  As for today, he was planning to send word about the status of their vows, or second vows as it were and their plans to return on schedule with the addition of Lord Rickard, who would be joining their party with the intention to represent his House and swear fealty to the crown in person

  This detail alone would likely please his father more than anything else. 

  The last thing he wrote was a request, he needed his father to refrain from sending out the summons to attend the ceremony at the Great Sept until after they arrived. He had every intention to explain the _why,_  once he was able to speak with the King in person. But telling him the truth about their marks and Lyanna’s pregnancy wasn’t something he could do through a raven scroll, for obvious reasons. He also was working off the assumption that having a Septon present during tonight’s ceremony would be enough to satisfy the Faith and his father and instead they could hold a feast or a grand celebration following the birth of his heirs.

  It was all a bunch of hypotheticals, but Rhaegar knew that sitting idly would do more harm than good. Especially insofar as his father was concerned. The fact was, by the time he and Lyanna returned to King's Landing, there would be no hiding her pregnancy and the more they try, the more reason his father would have to question his motives. 

  “Lya?” He called. 

  It was a few moments before she answered, but when he looked up, she was making her way into their shared solar, Shadow and a newer Direwolf following close on her heels. 

  This new wolf was a pale silver with eyes that were the lightest shade of blue that he’d ever seen, and whenever Rhaegar had found himself and this particular wolf in the same place, his eyes never wavered. It was unsettling if he were being honest. Lyanna just laughed at him when he told her about his observation, telling him how ridiculous he was being and that the wolf in question likely wanted to get to know him, but Rhaegar couldn’t understand why that would be the case. 

  “Did you need something?” Lyanna asked, interrupting his train of thought. 

  Clearing his throat, he focused his attention back to the matter he’d called her about.

  “Yes, I was hoping to get your opinion on how to address the matter of armies gathering in the Riverlands, just in case my father hears any whispers from Varys about troop movements in the coming months.”

  Lyanna pulled up a seat beside him and lowered herself down. He could tell that she was considering the question carefully. “Before I answer, what did you decide to tell the King about Walys and the reason for his execution?”

  “Do you think we could use this matter to our benefit?”

  Lyanna looked at him with a hint of exasperation. “That would depend on what you told the King.”

  Rhaegar sat there with his wife for the better part of an hour going over all of the correspondence he had sent to Elia to have delivered by messenger to the Red Keep; making sure to not leave any details out. When he was done, Lyanna sat back in her chair and pondered over his words.

  When she finally decided upon their course of action, she spoke. “I won’t lie to you Rhaegar, there isn’t a right nor an honorable way to do any of this. Northmen do not journey past the Neck without a reason, and if Varys has eyes everywhere, the only way to go about any of this is for the King to call his armies to assemble. The good news is, you’ve sewn the seeds of doubt against Tywin, Pycelle and the Citadel and _this_ is something we can work with.”

  “You think we should allow Tywin to draw my father's attention?”

  “I think that Tywin has already drawn your father's attention.” Lyanna returned. 

  It was a true statement. Even without his meddling, the King was eager to find a reason to remove Tywin from the realm of the living. However, anything involving Tywin could also potentially backfire. Had Rhaegar not taken Tywin into his confidence prior to Harrenhal, things would be a bit easier. Alas it makes no sense to dwell upon paths not taken. 

  “I hesitate to implicate Tywin, not because I’m hopeful for him to side with us during the conflict, but because of my previous involvement with him prior to the tournament.”

  Lyanna looked at him and smiled wolfishly, as if he had clearly not thought through what she was implying. “So don’t implicate Tywin.” She said, shrugging as if the matter was of no consequence to either of them. 

_Which it most certainly was!_

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me. First you suggest that we use the situation with Tywin and Pycelle, now you’re saying not to?”

  Lyanna sat forward and took his hands into her much smaller ones, her features softening some, and he felt himself relax some. “I’m saying that you should allow Tywin to implicate himself. The King already suspects Pycelle, thanks to your warning. By extension he is also focused on Tywin, my father, Robert, the Citadel and House Hightower. We have no choice but to present the facts to His Grace, upon our arrival, so make sure you send a formal request for a private audience that will include myself and my father, and have Aemon provide you with a signed document detailing the trial. You should also ask that we convene immediately upon our arrival. This should let your father know how serious the matter is, and help to convince him that you are making decisions based on his best interest. In the meantime, the King’s reaction and his state of mind should be our first priority.”

  Rhaegar felt himself nodding as he listened.

  “If we can keep him calm while we build our case against the Citadel, we might be able to convince him to call the banners to wage war on the conclave—especially if we can convince him of their involvement with the burning of Summerhall and the sacking of the Dragonpit during the Dance.” Lyanna finished, realizing that her mind had wandered. 

  Rhaegar sat straight forward, fighting the urge to kiss her properly. “Gods, I love your beautiful mind!”

  Lyanna chuckled at his enthusiasm. “What have I done to deserve such declarations?”

  “What have you not done? I knew that you were the right person to consult about this.” He said, smiling like a fool. 

  “Well, I’m honored to have your faith, though I’m sure it would have come to you eventually,” she remarked teasingly.

  He shook his head, “I’m sure that I would have found a way to over complicate things. I was honestly sitting here contemplating ways to keep my father from moving against the Citadel, but now, it makes so much more sense to let this be our diversion. And if Tywin makes any trouble, my father would consider it a convenience to have the Realm already assembled and en route.”

  “You’re moving too fast. The first thing we need to do is make sure we have all of the proper evidence and documentation ready to be presented. And _I_ need to work on expanding my gift from further distances. I would love to enter the Red Keep to find a lucid yet cynical King Aerys rather than a madman who is just coming out of a fog. We have almost a fortnight to make these plans and go over them. You also have Arthur, Oswell, Ned, Bran, my father, and Elia to help as well.” Lyanna said, reassuring him of their course. 

  “You’re right, we have time, I just don’t like not knowing what to expect. It’s been so long since I didn’t have to stay on guard, to be prepared for the worst case scenario wherever my father was involved. Your gifts, while much appreciated, make me feel unbalanced. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how he will react when he’s less muddled in the head.” He confessed. 

  “I understand, and while I’m sure that this situation isn’t ideal for anyone, it’s what we have to work with right now.” Lyanna said compassionately.

  Rhaegar nodded, not dejected but still a little nervous about what was to come. 

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Lyanna began, a grin forming on her face, hinting that she was picturing something comical, “I’ve entertained on more than one occasion how lovely it would be if my gift was able to clear your father long enough to convince him to abdicate. And before you remind me of how futile such imaginings are...let me assure you, I know it’s childish but it’s a beautiful dream all the same.”

  Rhaegar returned her wistful smile, it was indeed a pretty image to picture. No matter how unlikely the idea was.

  “Know that I love you, and that we will face all of this together. For now and always.” Lyanna vowed, leaning forward to caress his cheek with her free hand. 

 Rhaegar almost melted into her touch. _Together._ The idea made him feel just a bit lighter. 

  “About the execut—,” Lyanna’s words were cut off by the sound of knocking at the main door to their apartments; both Shadow and her new companions ears perked up at the interruption. There was a brief pause, and then he heard Arthur announce his presence.

  “Your Graces,” Arthur greeted, “I came to check in with you both before the ceremony starts.”

  Lyanna stood and placed her seat back where she had taken it from before returning and placing a chaste kiss upon his lips. “I’ll leave you two to your business, I have to go and check in with my father and Bran anyway.”

  Rhaegar nodded, knowing she was giving him and Arthur a moment alone to discuss things. Before Lyanna left she placed a hand on Arthur’s arm, a way of communication he realized, and then she was gone. 

  He wanted to pull her back, convince her to stay a while longer, if for no other reason than to have her near, but he didn’t. Instead he watched her go, knowing it wouldn’t be long before they were back in each others company. 

  Arthur looked at him questioningly, “Is everything well?”

  Rhaegar smiled, attempting to reassure him. “Everything is fine, we were just going over last minute details before I send these ravens off to Elia for my father, is there something else that’s needing my attention?”

  Arthur shook his head, and gestured toward the chair that sat across from him. 

Rhaegar rolled his eyes, “Really?”

  Laughing, his best friend and kinsmen took the seat. “Old habits die hard, Your Grace. You will have to forgive me”

  Rhaegar waved him off, dismissing the topic entirely. “Is everything almost prepared?”

  “Indeed.” Arthur said. The look on his face indicated that he wanted to say more.

  “What are you not saying?”

  “It’s nothing, I was just wondering if you are still intent on carrying out the sentence.” Arthur asked. 

  “I am. Don’t try to dissuade me either.” Rhaegar huffed.

  “I wasn’t going to?” Arthur said knitting his brows together.

  “You weren’t?” He was genuinely confused. 

  “Nay,” his best friend shook his head once more. “I only meant to enquire about the sword you mean to use. I thought mayhap you might want to use Dawn.”

  Rhaegar fixed Arthur with wide eyes, not sure he heard him correctly. “I—I um, are you serious? Is that even allowed? I mean Dawn chose you.” 

  “Dawn is the ancestral blade of my House, this is true, but anyone with Dayne blood can wield her if they are worthy, including cousins, which we are. I’m allowed to let you borrow her, and I wanted to make sure you knew she was an option.” Arthur explained.

  Rhaegar was stumped… there had never been any doubt that Arthur and he were far more than mere friends. Their bond was what he imagined his bond with Vis would be like had they not been born so many years apart. But this offer, went beyond anything he had ever imagined Arthur doing for him.

   “In truth, I haven’t given it much thought. I was actually going to use Blackfyre, but I admit, knowing that she was destined for my son makes me hesitate. Thank you so much for your offer, you’ve no idea how much it means to me.”

  Arthur shrugged. “It’s nothing, and the offer stands, no matter what you decide.”

  The two of them sat there for a little while longer talking over the same issues that he had been discussing with  Lyanna before his arrival and before he knew it, they were knocking on his door to let them know it was almost time. 

  With a deep sigh, he finished his missives to his father and Elia, applied his seal and then he and Arthur set off for the Rookery to send them off. 

  On the way back toward the Godswood he noticed the silver Direwolf following him from a safe distance and he wondered why it was so interested in him. Only to be greeted by the woman Lyanna called Old Nan once more. He hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know the woman, but he had seen her on many occasions conversing with Aemon and of course he owed her his gratitude for having Aemon examine Lyanna and confirm their suspicions. 

  Old Nan was watching him with eyes that said she knew more about him than he was comfortable with, and he was reminded of the many times he had been told about her uncanny ability to uncover people's secrets. 

  “My Prince,” the crone greeted. 

  “Old Nan, how do you fare?” He returned politely.

  The old woman cackled as if he had said something funny. “I’m an old woman, I’m sure you can imagine how well I’m faring. I have a question for you, young dragon.”

  Rhaegar inclined his head, indicating for her to continue.

  “There’s a wolf following you around, why have you not embraced him?” She asked him matter-of-factly.

  “Is there a reason that I should? The pack belongs to my wife.”

  “You’re a Blackwood, boy. Why do you shy away from the wolf?” She asked cryptically.

  He didn’t understand, “I’m a dragon, My Lady, but I am married to a wolf, I do not understand your accusation nor do I believe I am guilty of such an offense.”

  The old woman, Nan chuckled. “It’s no wonder you’re finding your task difficult. You see in one dimension, you need to see with three. You are a dragon, yes. But you are a Blackwood too. Your kin descend from the warg king's of the Wolf’s Wood, friends to the Children, and Direwolves of Sea Dragon Point. You are the great great great grand-nephew of Brynden Rivers. And the Great Grandson of Betha Blackwood, from whose line Lord Brynden was given the gift to see with a thousand eyes and one. You are silver and indigo, with fire burning within your blood, but you are the blood of the wolf too, distant as it is. Magic calls to magic. Those wolves know who you are, and while you may never share their skin, you will always share their blood. Do not take this for granted, those wolves may be the best thing he’s ever done in his life this far.”

  Once more he was left feeling perplexed by her cryptic answers, but he nodded his understanding. Truthfully, he was not overly concerned by the wolves, only in their tolerance of those not sharing Stark blood. He would understand if Lyanna didn’t welcome Silverwing for these same reasons, but after thinking on it some more, Rhaegar realized that he should be exploring all magical abilities. He would go to Howland about it. 

  “I suppose I have never thought about it. I honestly thought that it was interested in me because I’m a part of Lyanna’s pack too.” He finally replied. 

  Old Nan smiled, and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to this old woman than meets the eye. 

  “How is it you seem to know so much?” He asked her suspiciously. 

  She did not hesitate in her reply. “We all have our parts to play in this song, and if you keep questioning me you’re going to be late showing up to play your own part. Now off you go, the Lord and all the others are waiting on you and you alone.”

  Before he could reply, she was pushing him in the direction of the Godswood, the silver wolf following silently behind him.

  She had been right, of course. When he arrived all of the Northern Lords and his family by law were assembled around the weirwood. A chill traveled down his spine, the feeling of so many eyes, both visible and hidden being fixed upon him was unsettling. Especially here, in his wife’s godswood, where she had built a lifetime of fond memories.

  Lyanna stood beside her father, Ned and Ashara stood to the right of her, and Brandon to her father's left. Aemon was standing before the Reflection pool with Arthur at his back. High above them Rhaegar could sense the many crows that had come in scores to take up residence in the branches of the Heart Tree, contrasting with the blood red leaves making it look more dark and ominous than it normally did. 

  Rhaegar approached and stood beside his great uncle and together they waited for Walys to be brought forward. When he was positioned in front of one of the larger lower lying branches and his uncle stepped forward. 

  With a raised voice his uncle began. “Walys Flowers, you have confessed your treason before the Crowned Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, as well as the Princess Consort Lyanna Stark and Lord Rickard of the House Stark, who is the Lord of the castle Winterfell, in which you were sworn to serve. You have been found guilty before the eyes of the Gods and are here to answer for your crimes. As a sworn maester of the Citadel. I, Aemon Targaryen, have recorded your transgressions and have sent word notifying the conclave. The punishment for your crimes is death, do you understand?” 

Aemon spoke in a clear and calm voice, no emotion could be detected. Walys simply nodded his head. 

  Rhaegar used this moment to step forward. Ready to carry out this task. “Do you have any last words?”

  Walys, to his credit said nothing, choosing to lower his head to rest over the lower laying branch of the weirwood.

 _A dignified death…he truly believes he is justified._ Rhaegar realized.

All around him the Lords of the North stirred. Not quite understanding what was happening, he looked back to his good-father. He wanted to make sure that he should proceed. They had discussed the custom at length the night before. Lord Rickard wanted him to be sure that he was ready to take a man's life. Even though, this would be his first, he understood well enough why they had never used a headsmen.

_“If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.”_

  His good-father's words sang through his mind. But his hesitation had nothing to do with second thoughts. His hesitation resided in the action itself, and whether or not the Northern Lords would understand why he had decided to do the deed, rather than allow his good-father to serve as executioner, the way his forefathers had done for the past two-hundred-eighty one years. 

  There were quite a few reasons that he’d elected to do this task himself, but mostly what sense did it make to have his good-father take Walys life in the name of his father, King Aerys while Rhaegar himself was standing in witness? If he’d been the one to strip Walys of his chain and sentence him, he should also be the one to swing the sword. This was the way of his wife’s people, _his people,_ and he needed to win them the way he won Lyanna, through deeds, not words. And from what he had learned of his wife and her people, everything they do, everything they know, had been learned through experience. 

  There was no action in the North taken without a lesson to accompany it. 

  Lord Rickard stood beside the Weirwood to the right of Lyanna. When their eyes met, his good-father nodded ever so slightly, just enough that only he would notice. 

  Rhaegar swallowed and turned back to Walys, who was on his knees. “Walys Flowers, in the names of Aerys, of the House Targaryen, the Second of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, and Lyanna, of the House Stark, Queen of Winter and Princess Consort of the Seven Kingdoms, and by the word of myself, Rhaegar, of the House Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone, Crowned Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and Consort to the Queen in the North. I do sentence you to death.”

  Rhaegar stepped forward and Lord Rickard offered him the hilt of the greatsword Ice that had been the replacement sword House Stark had chosen after their original blade went missing. He hesitated, never once considering that he would be given such an honor. He, in truth had considered using Blackfyre or Dawn, as Arthur had already given him leave to wield her, being that they both shared Dayne blood, but never once had he thought that he would be granted such an honor by his good-father.

  “This sword has served the North for almost four hundred years. You may not be a Stark by blood, but you’re passing judgment like a Stark, and Ice, just like our Gods has a thirst about her. Would you deny her?” Lord Rickard asked in a low tone. 

  “I'm honored to use her, just as I am honored to follow the Old Way.” Rhaegar replied, reaching out to grasp the hilt of Ice in his left hand, before following through with his right as well. Rhaegar stood at near six feet four inches, yet this sword was still massive, even for him.

  When he finally managed to free the sword from the grey wolf-pelt that it rested within, he stepped back and surveyed his surroundings. 

  All around him, the Godswood went still, the air was charged however. The lords present, shifted nervously on their feet in anticipation of what they knew was soon to follow. They were sizing him up, waiting for him to make his move or falter.

  Rhaegar closed his eyes for a fleeting moment and then he tightened his grip around the hilt and whispered softly to the Old Gods to keep his arm steady and aim true. He raised the greatsword high and then he allowed gravity and the natural weight of the sword to carry it back downward. 

  He hardly noticed when the edge of the blade parted Walys head from his neck, a true testament to how lethal Valyrian steel truly was. There was a brief thud and then Walys head was rolling toward the still pond that lay in front of the Heart Tree.

  The sound of blood spraying was the first thing that truly registered, but still, he decided he didn’t care to look. Instead, he turned and passed Ice, hilt first back to Lord Rickard and then he turned back to face his mate. 

  Lyanna’s eyes were wide, and the silver ring that surrounded the deep grey was impossibly bright, but she smiled kindly at him and beckoned him to her, offering her arm when he was close enough. Her skin was cool, a change from the warmth that he had grown accustomed to over the past moons. 

  “Are you well, my love?” He asked, concerned. 

  She met his question with a reassuring smile, “Be at ease, all is well,” Lyanna’s gaze traveled upward to the canopy of the Heart Tree, where more and more ravens had been gathering over the past weeks. When his own eyes followed, the ravens all took flight and the wolves who had slowly begun migrating inside the castle to take up their place in the Godswood all raised their voices in unison, at the same time the breeze picked up, jostling the branches of the weirwood, and beside him, Lyanna started to chant. . . He could not say what the words were that she used, but once she was finished, a light snow had started to fall.

  “You didn’t tell me you could do this?” He said teasingly. 

  “I didn’t know that I could. But Howland and I have been working on it, on how to focus my gift, and I can’t explain it, but I just knew the moment the wolves called out, the Old Gods spoke to me. This—,” Lyanna said, turning in a slow circle, allowing the light flurries to fall around her. “Is just the beginning, I know it. There is so much more that I’m  capable of. There’s so much more that _you_ are capable of.” She said, stepping closer to him. 

  “The _Fire_ belongs to you, just as _Winter_ belongs to me. You just have to believe in yourself, you need to embrace it, the way that I’ve embraced my _Ice.”_ Lyanna counseled him as the two of them began walking back in the direction of the First Keep.

  Rhaegar knew this, but her advice was easily given to a man who grew up resisting the urge to burn his enemies, resisting passion, rage, lust, all emotions capable of triggering a break in his sanity, anything that could make him lose control— until the day he had met Lyanna. Yet, even though he knew that she would always balance him, the knowledge did little to quiet that voice inside him that always counseled caution…

  “Aemon tells me that as well, _Waking the Dragon_ he calls it. Whatever that is supposed to mean.” Rhaegar sighed exasperatedly. “It’s not like I haven’t tried, I talk to her constantly, I even dream about her at times, but it’s all been for naught. I’m still no closer to her now than I was when we were at Harrenhal.” He despaired. 

  Once again Lyanna slowed them to a near stop before she pulled on his arm to make him turn and face her. “Listen to me,” she began, not unkindly. He nodded. 

  “Silverwing knows who she is, and I believe that a part of her also knows who you are... think about all that she’s seen, think about her first rider, Queen Alysanne, and then again with Ulf the White, who eventually turned against Queen Rhaenyra and his betrayal ended not only in his death, but the death of her bonded mate. Dragons turning against dragons in an attempt to seize power. She’s lost faith in the remainder of her dragonkin— faith in those of your lineage, the integrity, honor, loyalty and virtue, so rather than continue to reside on the island of her birth— and while I can admit that mayhaps this was because she knew that the lord of her dragonkin no longer shared trust with her dragon-kind, she eventually chose to abandon it altogether to go live in self imposed solitude on some island in the Reach. She won’t come to you until you are sure of who you are, for how can she fully trust a dragon who doesn’t fully have trust in himself?”

  The question made him pause; it made so much sense, she always made sense. Lyanna’s insightfulness was one of the many things he loved most about his mate. But her solution was again something that was far easier said than done. He nodded in understanding all the same. 

  “Where are you taking me?” He asked her, now that he had a moment to look around at their surroundings. 

  Lyanna blushed and his heart quickened at the sight. “I thought that I could show you the Glass Gardens while we still have some time. The ceremony won’t be until after the sun sets, and the men are likely preparing Walys body for the Gods, and what’s left of him will go to the Wolves and the Ravens. . . I thought that you might appreciate a change in scenery. Besides, we’ve been here almost two turns of the moon and you still haven’t seen them.”

  Now that he thought about it, he realized that Lyanna was right, they had discussed them at length, she had even convinced him that he should have some installed on Dragonstone in order to help with productivity, and the harvest. Though, from what Rhaegar could recall of the glass gardens in Winterfell, they were only useful because of the presence of the hot springs and pools that were piped through the ground and castle, which helped during the winter months to ensure that the ground remained soft and the air within, warm enough to ensure that things continued to grow. 

  A part of him was genuinely interested to see how effective the Glass Houses truly were, and there was another part of him that was itching for a distraction, from Walys execution, from the knowledge that he had just taken a man's life, from the fact that he had just named Lyanna as “Queen in the North”, a title completely independent of the one that she gained when she accepted him as her mate—a distraction from all these things that were now his truths, so he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way, knowing that only she would be able to pull him out of his head. 

* * *

####  **|** ** _Lyanna_** **|**

* * *

The Glass Gardens had always been dear to her. In fact, some of her fondest memories were made within it's embrace. 

  It was here that her mother taught her all about the important role they played in maintaining their people through the harsh winters. Here that she learned about the different vegetables and roots that could be kept well and used to fill a man’s stomach when meat became scarce. Here that she learned about the grain that they continually grow in order to keep the castles stores full, and it was here that she was educated about all the many herbs and plants that were used for healing and other such things. 

  There were two lemon trees, both of which had been added by her mother. There was an apple tree as well, even blackberry and raspberry bushes that Cook would use to make Lyanna’s favorite tarts. 

  But for as much as she loved these things, there was one thing that she loved more than anything else, and she had long since chosen her side and drawn a line in the sand within the Gardens to mark her territory. 

  Lyanna came here for the Winter Roses. This had been her duty and hers alone after her mother was no longer _with_ them to care for on her own. Aside from herself, there was only the Master gardener who she trusted with their care when she was unable to do it herself.

  She walked a step behind her mate, wanting to watch him take it all in. Lyanna imagined that the Glass Gardens were quite shocking to a person who had never seen them before. Especially considering the fact that they were much larger than one could expect or imagine. 

  Aside from the Godswood, this was the only place Lyanna could ever truly feel peace. Whenever she would be upset or be in the midst of a bad day, she would often come here and hide in the room with her roses and for whatever reason, they seemed to benefit from her ever constant visits. Her father had even remarked on how they had never bloomed so often before she had been born.

  As she watched, she could see that the gardens were having the desired effect she had been hoping for in his mood. She decided now was as good a time as any to break the silence. “What are you thinking?”

  It was a moment before he responded.

  “I think that this is incredible, who would have believed that it could actually be this warm in the North?” It wasn’t an actual question, but it made her smile all the same. Rhaegar sounded like a young boy, still full of the curiosity that comes with youth, one who just discovered something new and unfathomable, and mayhaps a bit _magical?_

  “It’s obvious that most of what’s been planted here could never survive outside of these houses, yet I’m curious, are there more of these glass houses in the Northern Territory?” Rhaegar continued, turning around to face her as she responded.

  Lyanna shrugged, “Perhaps. But they only work here, due to the presence of the hot springs. I’m sure that there are others but not many, considering how few hot springs exist in Westeros as a whole.”

  “What makes you believe that they would be of any use on Dragonstone?” He asked her, genuine curiosity in his tone.

  She considered the question and how she should go about articulating the best response. Lyanna understood that the glass houses were pivotal in the survival of the North because the land was oftentimes to harsh to sustain proper growth. She also understood that not every place was the same, and Dragonstone was no exception, yet she also noticed that the island was not covered in farms or produce, which is what had inspired her to make her suggestion. 

  “Well, for starters, Dragonstone is nowhere near as cold as Winterfell, but aside from that, there are hot pools beneath the Dragonmont that can easily be piped, or drawn to the surface in some manner or another.”

  When Rhaegar looked at her questioningly, she explained.

“Maybe it’s possible for Howland to sing them to the surface, using the magic of the Singers and the Greenmen.” 

  Rhaegar nodded, and she continued her thought. “I’m sure you already know that Volcanoes tend to produce rich and fertile soil as well, which would be perfect for planting. I’ve thought about all of this, and it led me to the conclusion that the only real reason that nothing grows on the island is a direct result of the wind coming off the Blackwater, and the fact that the natural terrain can’t shield things from being assaulted by the harsh gusts of wind that pummels the island and the Blackwater Bay so mercilessly. And if that’s truly the reason, the glass houses would serve perfectly to preserve whatever is being grown within.”

  In her opinion, it was the only logical decision to make. The people of Dragonstone and their Liege Lord should be able to sustain themselves in the event that they were unable to receive aid from the mainland. She had been raised to prepare for any eventuality, but most importantly, she had been raised knowing that Winter is Coming and that statement was true  no matter which kingdom you hail from.

  Lyanna could tell that her words had an impact on her husband, but she hadn’t brought him here to sell him on the idea of glass houses on Dragonstone. She would use her inheritance to purchase the glass if she had to, but she honestly doubted such extremes would be necessary. 

  Rhaegar nodded once more, accepting her reasoning without much fuss and together they continued through the carefully tended footpaths, toward the section that housed her roses. When they were close, Rhaegar paused and inhaled deeply, making her smile at how familiar he was with them.

  “Winter Roses,” he said contentedly.” You know—it’s no secret that they are grown right here in Winterfell, but I think people forget how remarkable they truly are. I wish they grew in the south. I would plant them in Aegon's garden for you on Dragonstone, and dedicate an entire section of the royal gardens of the Red Keep to them in your honor.” Her husband confessed, drawing her closer to him.

  “Is it because you chose the laurel at the tournament?” Lyanna was genuinely interested, she had never understood how it was even made possible in the first place.

  Rhaegar shook his head, “Not only for that reason. I associate them to you because they were the first thing that I knew about you. Your scent, is sweet and bitter and crisp and biting. You’re a mixture of Winter Roses, blood and iron. It’s intoxicating, but also, it was the reason I requested them for the champions laurel.”

  Her husband was a romantic to his very core, lethal with a Lance and a better than average rider. His skill with a blade was a lovely thing to behold, even though he took no pride in that particular craft. All those things considered, he never failed to show her through actions as well as words how much he treasured her.

  “Well then, I suppose we should move on to the final stop on this tour.” Lyanna finally replied, taking his hand and leading him the rest of the way. 

  Beyond the archway leading to the Roses, the room opened up to reveal a wall that was covered in thick thorny vines adorned by crisp green leaves, upon which her most prized possession stood out in full bloom. The scene was breathtaking. 

  Rhaegar just stood there for a while, a look of utter shock upon his face, and for just a moment she allowed herself to empathize with him.

  Eventually they settled on a spot near one of the hot pools that had randomly broken through the ground and now decorated the gardens at random. They spoke about the gardens, and their shared history among many other things. Lyanna listened in relative silence as he spoke, allowing him to distract himself away from the execution. Hoping that he would be able to find some peace of mind within this little piece of paradise. Unfortunately they were forced to part ways after about an hour in order to prepare themselves for the second part of their day. 

  Lyanna would be spending the remainder of the daylight hours locked away in her chambers, while her father and brothers and most likely Oswell would keep Rhaegar distracted, and Arthur would no doubt be standing guard inside her chambers to make sure no one saw her before the ceremony began. She bestowed a kiss upon her mate, and with great reluctance she allowed herself to be parted from him for what she could only hope would be a handful of hours. 

  After she and Rhaegar left the calm serenity of the Glass Houses, Lyanna was quickly whisked away. Normal traditions dictated that she and Rhaegar not see one another until after the sun had set and the ceremony to exchange vows began. But she and Rhaegar had already sworn themselves to each other, so the traditions were only observed as a formality, all in an attempt to appease her father's bannermen and to assume the role that she and her husband had been cast to play for the amusement of her now good-father, King Aerys. 

    Her father had called his bannermen to come and bear witness to the union between Dragon and Wolf, but she had been gobsmacked when she realized that every single one of them had answered his summons. Though, mayhap she shouldn’t have been. It was no secret how well she was loved among the Northern Lords and their families. A fact that her brothers never failed to remind her of. 

  And now, she found herself in her chambers, sitting in front of her dressing table while Ashara fussed over her hair and Old Nan regaled them both with a story about the day that her Lady Mother and Lord Father exchanged their own vows.

  As the finishing touches were applied, Old Nan slipped from her chambers to retrieve the dress that her father had requested she wear. Lyanna knew nothing about the garment, only that her Lord Father was determined that she renew her vows in it. And being that she never quite cared for extravagant dresses and the like, she was more than happy to appease him in this. It, in truth was one less thing she had to worry about in regards to this mummery that they would have to repeat in less than two moons. 

  Ashara had managed an updo; braiding her hair to resemble an elaborate crown with stray curls that were left loose to frame her face, though, at this point, her hair had grown so long that there was no possible way to prepare all of it atop her head, so Ashara had elected to leave the back loose, braided halfway into a pattern that resembled fishbone which swept over her right shoulder. 

  Given the weather, and the fact that they intended to exchange vows after sundown, Ashara did not bother applying face paints, nor would any of that matter to her husband or the Lords who had come to stand witness to their union. A fact that she was thankful for. Truth be told, her nerves were starting to wear thin. 

  Fortunately for her, she was kept busy enough that she hadn’t had much more than a moment or two at random to think on the reality of her situation. 

  Once Ashara had finished, and was happy with her work, Old Nan had returned and Ashara was helping her to her feet so that they could begin dressing her for the ceremony. 

  “Turn around and no peeking,” Nan clucked and Lyanna had to bite back the laugh that threatened to escape. All the same, she did as she had been bid by her dear Nan. 

  For good measure Nan had Ashara secure a silk scarf over her eyes so that she could not see the dress before Old Nan determined that she was ready.

  Unlike the first time she exchanged vows with Rhaegar, this time Lyanna understood what was going on. She knew that when the time came she would have to make her way to the Godswood, where by some miracle every one of her father's bannermen would be waiting. _No pressure…_ She knew that she would be expected to be graceful and courteous and to play the role expected of a Queen, especially now that the _cat_ was out of the proverbial bag, but there was still a part of her, however small it may be, the part that was all wolf, which demanded that she not conform. That she give the North what they knew, a winter storm… A smile formed on her face thinking about the snow that she had released just a few hours earlier, one that she knew was still lightly falling. 

  “What are you smiling about?” Ashara enquired. She could hear the smile in her voice. 

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Lyanna teased back.

  Her good-sister huffed… “Obviously, or else I wouldn’t have asked.” Ashara returned. 

  Lyanna smirked, “Well, now you know how it feels. As it turns out, I’d very much like to know what it is you’ve decided to dress me in.” She quipped back lovingly.

  “Don’t torture the girl over something she had no control over. You know that it was I who chose to keep you in the dark.” Old Nan chastised, chuckling after a moment, no doubt at her clever turn of phrase. 

  Lyanna wanted to roll her eyes but quickly realized that the gesture would be wasted behind her blindfold. Instead, she released a heavy breath and returned back to her previous conversation with Ashara. 

  “I was thinking about the snow that is still falling outside, and will likely continue throughout the night. Not as scandalous as I imagine you were hoping, but it pleases me all the same.” She smiled once more. 

  “Arms up,” Nan ordered, interrupting their conversation and she once again did as she was bid. First her slip, then her underdress and next came the skirts, the last layer was the upper bodice of her dress. All the while, she stood there in silence as Nan and Ashara tugged her in one direction or another. 

  “It’s a good fit, even in your condition.” Nan mused.

  “Did you not account for my pregnancy?” Lyanna found herself asking, curious about Nans comment. 

  “You may be with child, but you hardly show. Given your natural inclination to ride and practice swordplay, your figure is much better suited to masking your condition, unlike most ladies in your situation who are soft all over from their many years of pampered living.” Old Nan stated matter-of-factly. 

  “Let us all hope that this theory holds true for when I have to play this mummery in front of the rest of the realm.” Lyanna despaired. 

  She had been stewing over this topic a lot over the past weeks since having her condition confirmed. By her calculations, she had conceived the night that they were joined on the isle of faces. Even if her moons cycle hadn’t been expected for at least another sennight, her instincts told her that the Old Gods made magic happen that night. And if that were the case, by the time she and Rhaegar made it to the Great Sept, she would be five moons gone and hiding her condition would be nearly impossible. There would be no hiding from the King, which in itself created its own set of issues. The main one being that her father would never consent to leaving her with Aerys, knowing that his grandchildren would be at risk, regardless of her influence over the King. 

  Lyanna was pulled from her thoughts by a heavy knocking at the doors that led into her apartments. Still blindfolded, she called for some help. “Would someone check the door?”

  There was the sound of swishing fabric, followed by retreating footsteps before she was reminded of her new reality once more. “Right away, Your Grace,” the girl—Josie announced, before securing the door of her rooms so that no one would be able to see inside. 

  “Are we almost done?” Lyanna pouted, very much wanting to remove the scarf so that she could see what all the secrecy was about. 

  After a final tug, Ashara chuckled and then she felt herself being guided back to what she assumed was the bench in front of her dressing table. “Take a seat, and you’ll be done once I’m finished with these last few details.”

  _Last few details? Gods, how much more could Nan possibly put on her?_

  In answer, Lyanna felt the cold touch of metal resting on her neck, and the heavy presence of a medallion or pendant rest against the hollow of her throat. Next was the pinch of earrings being added to her ears and another set of hands adding more detailing to her hair. Right before the scarf was removed, she felt two rings slide onto her right hand, and an assortment of bracelets being placed on her left wrist. Lyanna felt her heart hammering in her chest as the moments dragged on, and she suddenly felt nervous for what was to come. 

  Just when she thought she could take it no more, someone helped her to her feet and removed the scarf. 

  Silence… her eyes were still closed. And then, before she could command her eyes to open, the door to her room swung open and she heard a gasp coming from the person who had just entered. It was at this moment that she finally turned toward the door and opened her eyes. 

  Standing just inside her room was Bran, dressed in a fine grey doublet with matching breeches, the traditional Direwolf pin that all her brothers had been gifted by their Lady mother was fastened just above his heart. As it turned out, the snow was still falling outside, as Lyanna could still see the remnants of it melting in his dark brown hair. Brandon’s eyes were wide as he took in her appearance making her shift uncomfortably on her feet. The response was almost instinctual. Every fiber of her being—urged her to hide, or change—reminding her that soon she would be the center of attention once more. She hated it, and all at once, a wave of nausea came over her. It was irrational and ridiculous considering everything that they had gone through, but it didn’t change the facts. 

  Obviously recognizing her distress, Brandon quickly approached and forced her to look him in the eye. “Don’t do that—,” he warned, knitting his brows together in concern.

  “Don’t do what?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Don’t hide away,” he paused and then started again. “My reaction deserves an explanation, I suppose?” Brandon began.

  In an attempt to ground herself, she inhaled deeply, and then nodded, exhaling slowly to calm her. 

  “Obviously, you haven’t seen yourself.” Brandon started and Lyanna nodded once to confirm his suspicion. 

  “Then we should remedy that before I tell you why I was so taken aback.” Brandon said, bringing his hands to rest on her shoulders before gently turning her back in the direction of her dressing table where a full length mirror had been placed. Her eyes had been downcast but when she felt Brandon still, she slowly looked up. 

  The reflection of the woman staring back at her was not the reflection of a person she knew. In fact it was almost as if someone had changed her appearance all together. She knew the dress immediately and she struggled not to cry. Her father had chosen her mother's dress. The same dress that Lyarra Stark had worn the day that she exchanged vows with the lord of Winterfell.

  This was almost unheard of in the North, the fabric was almost new still, and the embellishments alone were quite valuable. Typically this dress would have been taken apart and re-purposed as a woman has no reason to wear her bride-gown more than once. But obviously this had not been the case with her mother. 

  Lyanna remembered once, a long time ago, before her mother departed, Lyarra had shown her the dress. She couldn’t have been more than four name days, but she never forgot the gown. And now, here she was, standing in her own chambers, looking at herself dressed in a gown that her mother loved too much to lose. 

  The gown itself was made of a fine white wool, with grey satin trimming around the sleeves, and grey stitching to match. The neck was lined with grey wolf fur, as was the hem. There were silver direwolves embroidered along side blue roses, on the sleeves and skirts, while the bodice was embellished with precious gems, some a bluish color, some light pink, and some of them clear like the stars in the sky. All of which had been sent by her Great-grandfather, _The Flint-_ who was the head of their clan, who had them mined from within the Flint Mountains. _One of the many secrets that the North kept away from the south._ The gems had been arranged to look like falling snowflakes, and there was no denying how beautifully the gown had been created. 

  On her right hand, there were two rings, one had a silver band with two pearls that she had never seen before, the other was black like ice, and Lyanna recognized it immediately as dragonglass. Her left wrist hosted a series of bracelets, one of ivory and another of onyx, but the two that caught her attention were the two made from what Lyanna knew to be Weirwood and Ironwood. Her earrings were simple, two pearls and she had already seen her hair. Still, she was stunned by all the little details that had been added after the blindfold was secured. The crown atop her head had small white and blue flowers woven into the braid, while small pearls were secured into the lower braid where the pattern merged in the middle. And there was a weirwood comb shaped like a Direwolf placed just at the crown of her head, just above where the lower braid began. 

  Her knees were starting to buckle, but before she could collapse, Brandon was there to steady her and lend her his strength. “You look just like her.” He said after a moment. “This is the reason for my reaction.” 

  Slowly, Lyanna turned to face her brother. There was a part of her that wanted to disagree, her mother had been truly lovely, while Lyanna always considered herself more plain. But another part of her had always known that it was _her_ that desired to be plain—to go unnoticed and now that part of her was telling her that Brandon was right. That she was indeed the image of their mother. And tonight, she was determined to be worthy of such high praise. 

  Brandon was still smiling at her when she turned and she felt herself blush. “Thank you, Bran.” She said, rather than argue as she had originally intended to.

  “You know why I’ve come?” 

  Lyanna nodded and glanced back at Ashara and Old Nan. “Will you be coming Nan?” She knew that Nan hated the Godswood, but she really wanted for her to attend.

  Old Nan looked like she wanted to decline and Lyanna was about to beg, but then Nan spoke up. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned with that silver prince of yours rather than this silver bag of bones… I didn’t spend the last few hours making you presentable just to stay here in this tower, now go, before they think you twice stolen.” She clucked back in answer. 

  “Very well,” Lyanna returned.

  Turning back to Brandon, “I suppose we should go then?”

  Her brother nodded, and then stepped forward and reached toward Nan’s outstretched hands to take the cloak that she would wear up until Rhaegar swapped it out with a different one. 

  This cloak was similar to the banners of their House, mostly white bordered by grey, but in place of the Grey Direwolf that had graced their banners for centuries, the Direwolf had been swapped with a black one with silver trimming. It was truly remarkable, and she was eternally grateful that no detail had been left unattended. 

  Ashara kissed her gently on her cheek and then excused herself, no doubt so that she could find Ned so that they could go to the Godswood and take their places. 

  After a last glance around her chambers, Lyanna took a deep breath and then they set out in search of her father and her mate. 

* * *

####  **|** ** _Rickard_** **|**

* * *

  The snow was still falling when Brandon entered with Lyanna on his arm. She was a picture, the very image of her Lady mother, only made more lovely by the lightly falling snow.

  At the entrance to the Godswood, stood two sentries and further, beside the archway covering the crypts, stood two more, just to make sure no one wandered too far outside the permitted areas.

  Leading the way was Lyanna’s direwolf Shadow, silent and imposing but clearly right where she was supposed to be. The last time his pups were in this position, it had been Brandon to fulfill his role as Head of their House, and therefore he had been the one to present Lyanna before the Gods to the man who sought to claim her and take her from her pack. This time, he was determined to fulfill this duty himself, as it should have been months ago. 

  A gentle breeze picked up and his heart, which had up until this moment, been beating like a drum, finally stilled some. It almost felt as if _his_ Lyarra was there to witness this union herself, and mayhap she felt like she wanted to let him know that he was not alone. 

  Rickard moved to take up Bran’s position just as they crossed the boundary into the Godswood. “I’ll take her from here, son.”

   Brandon smiled tightly and then nodded his assent. “As you will, we will be waiting for you both,” and with that, his son bowed his head in respect and turned his heel in the direction of the Heart Tree.

  Once he was sure that it was just the two of them, he turned back to his little girl, who was standing there patiently waiting for him to either speak or lead the way. She seemed not at all nervous for what they both knew awaited them in the center of the woods. 

  “You are an absolute vision,” Rickard found himself confessing, all in an attempt to fill the silence. He reached out and offered her his arm.

  “Your opinion is biased, don’t deny it.” Lyanna smiled and they began their long walk to the center of the Godswood where he knew everyone was awaiting them. 

  “Aye, you may be correct, but can you blame me?” He quipped back lovingly as they continued onward. 

  The Godswood was quiet, but he could feel the eyes of his Lya’s pack, watching them as they passed through the trees. There had been lanterns situated within the Godswood, markers, so that they had a clear path to their destination. Coupled with the light snow that had begun falling earlier in the day, the scenery looked almost ethereal. It was like they existed inside a bubble that could not be penetrated by the outside world. Above them, the breeze persisted but on the ground below the air was calm as can be, though Rickard could feel a presence within the sanctuary that he had never felt before in his life. He honestly couldn’t decide if this was an effect of Lyanna’s gift, or whether it was due to the sacrifice that had been made earlier in the day, but something was definitely afoot…

  Lyanna finally spoke, clutching his arm a bit tighter. “Can you feel her?”

  She didn’t have to say a name, Rickard knew immediately whom she referred to. “I thought I did, but I can never really be as sure as you are. I know that she wouldn’t miss this for the world. She always said that this was your destiny, if nothing else she’s here to tell me how right she was.” He replied, smiling inwardly at the thought of his Lyarra being there to stand beside him as he gives his she-pup away officially.

  “Just think in a few moons, you will be bringing your grand-babes here to meet mother, both me and Neddies.” Lyanna returned, clearly excited by the prospect. 

  Rickard was just about to respond but they were entering the clearing where everyone had gathered to witness the fulfillment of the Pact. With this in mind, he made a note to finish this conversation with her later on.

  Father and daughter shared a look, grey-blue to her deep grey and silver. A silent question; _Are you ready?_

  Lyanna nodded in confirmation and together they took their first steps toward the reflection pool, making sure to follow the path that led to where his three sons and his good-son were waiting. 

  Brandon knew his part, they had discussed it at length, so when his heirs deep Northern voice filled the quiet calm of the sanctuary, all eyes were immediately drawn to the four people who were standing before his family’s Heart Tree.

  “Who comes before the Gods?” Brandon called out from his position in front of the weirwood.

  The imagery behind him was both brutal and beautiful, as well as terrifying and gratifying in turn and he found it almost a chore to have to focus his attention anywhere aside from the sight of the Heart Tree, which was dressed in the innards and organs of the man who was once Walys Flowers. 

  Rickard cleared his throat and then he spoke in answer. “Lyanna, of the House Stark, Queen of Winter, true born and noble, comes here to be wed, promised and marked by the Gods,” he returned, still transfixed by the image of the weirwood. It’s face seemed different somehow. The eyes seemed to have more light or life in them. As if they were truly alive, and could observe the people standing within this ancient grove. “Who comes to claim her?” He called at the last moment.

  “Rhaegar, of House Targaryen, Crowned Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and the Lord of Dragonstone. Who gives her?” Prince Rhaegar intoned in a loud but determined tone.

  “Rickard, of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, who is her father.” This time the words came without hesitation or thought. 

  “Queen Lyanna, do you take this man?” Brandon asked.

  All eyes were on Lyanna as the assembled group waited for her answer. She didn’t even have to consider, “I take this man.” She answered with a beaming smile.

  “Then step forward and seek the blessing of the Gods.” His heir instructed. 

  Lyanna spared him a parting glance before she proceeded forward and joined her hands with the hands of her mate. In a break from normal traditions, Brandon helped Lyanna out of the brides-cloak that she had arrived wearing, while Ned stepped up and handed a new cloak to his good-son. The Prince was never rough or assuming, so it was no surprise when he gently reached out, allowing the cloak to unfurl before he attached the new cloak around her shoulders. 

  When he stepped back far enough to give Lyanna space, Rickard saw the sigil that had been embroidered onto the fabric was a replica of their joined marks. The Northern Lords noticed as well but aside from the shuffling of feet, no one spoke up, knowing that the disruption would not be appreciated. 

  As one, Lyanna and Rhaegar both knelt before the heart tree to pray for their blessings. The breeze picked up once more and then, unexpectedly, the moon made its first appearance in the sky, breaking through the canopy of blood red leaves to beam down upon the two kneeling figures who had come to renew their vows in the sanctuary of his ancestors. A few blood-red leaves lifted from the floor of the forest and twirled in the wind around the couple, and then without warning, the wolves were calling out lovingly to the moon, and the ravens—as if on cue, all spread their wings and abandoned their perches so that they could fly upward and circle the silhouette of the moon. And for the first time in his life he could swear that the Heart Tree wore a smile that was both sinister and heartening at the same time. 

  Slowly, both Lyanna and the Prince rose from their knees and turned to one another, “With this kiss, I pledge my vow. I am yours and you are mine.” His good son added, knowing that this was not standard in Northern ceremonies. Lyanna was  beaming, and she leaned in for him to capture her lips. 

  The assembled crowd released a collective sigh the moment that Lyanna was swept up into her princes arms, and he began to carry her back in the direction of the Great Hall where a celebratory feast was prepared and waiting for them. 

  Rickard stood there, in the calm serenity of the Godswood for a moment longer, watching everyone go. His heart felt heavy and light at the same time, and he knew that it was because he had fulfilled his promise to Lyarra, but in doing so, he all but guaranteed that his little _winter storm_ would be leaving her beloved North. Something that he knew would come to pass eventually, but hurt all the same to consider. With one last look at the Heart Tree and the reflection pool, he turned and headed back toward the castle. 

   _I hope that this is what you intended for her…_ Rickard thought as he approached the thickening tree line. A small breeze swirled around him, and for just a moment he thought he heard someone whispering into his ear. He turned back toward the weirwood, but no one was there. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts… but those whispered words were seared into his mind the rest of the night… _Thank you._

  Later on, shortly after the second night of feasting began, Rickard found himself observing his guests and his children, thinking about everything that he’d learned over the past two moons since they came home.

  He thought about Lyarra and what she would have thought about all of this. About their plans for the North and their pup being crowned and commanding a pack of Direwolves...

  He thought about his discussion with Lyanna, and of her urging to take a new wife and mayhaps sire more pups to add to the pack. And he wondered if Lyarra would agree. Did he still have a duty to his House in such regards? He’s raised four children, nearly all to the age of majority, which admittedly was rare in the North. 

  Rickard was pulled from his thoughts by the announcement of gift giving. Currently the Lord of White Harbor; Wyman Manderly was on his feet. 

  “On behalf of House Manderly and White Harbor, it is our honor to present Your Graces with a gift that will serve both you and yours for many years to come.” He said, motioning for his son to approach the new royal couple.

  Lord Wylis did as he was bid, bringing with him a large rectangular box. He stopped just short of the raised dais and waited for Lyanna to call off Shadow. When the path was cleared he proceeded once more. 

  “With your permission?” Lord Wylis hesitated. Lyanna awarded him with a kind smile and nodded that he should continue. 

  Inside the box was a wooden model of a ship. “Of course you cannot sail this one specifically,” He chuckled at his own jokes. “What I present you with is a sample of the vessel that my father and I have chosen and designed beside some of White Harbor and Essos finest shipwrights, specifically for our Queen and future King.”

  From what Rickard could see of the ship, it would be impressive. It was slightly larger than the common carrack, and more similar in appearance to the Essosi or Rhyonish Caravela. It possessed four masts, the foremast possessed two square sails while the back three supported lanteen sails. Designed for both speed and maneuverability and ideal for sailing in coastal waters. 

  “She won’t be ready for quite some time, Your Graces, but once she’s finished, you will have one of the finest ships in Westeros.” Lord Wyman finished, noting crew size and load capacity. 

  Lyanna listened to each detail with fascination and thanked him most graciously for such a fine gift. If Rickard hadn’t known how little his she pup liked sailing, he might’ve believed her sincerity. However, he also could see her working out a way to thank him in a similar manner. She had always been thus, wanting to give back, rather than receive. She was never any fun to spoil, not unless it involved blackberry tarts, lessons with Bran or Ben or both, or riding Winter. He smiled wistfully at the memories. 

  The next guest to approach was Lord Howland Reed. Rickard sat forward, genuinely interested to see what he would offer. 

  “Your Graces, Thank you for allowing me to represent my House and people while you both celebrate amongst friends, close kin and loved ones.” Howland began. 

  Lyanna nodded and graced him with one of her warm smiles that could set the Hall at ease. 

  “The Neck is a small place in comparison to the rest of the North. Yet we, like the rest of the North have had to learn how best to survive the cold. My gift—excuse me, our gift, might not be considered lavish and costly, but it _is_ meaningful and is also something that I believe would prove more than invaluable in the generations to follow. Even more, I believe that this gift will gladly fall into the category of valuable resources that are essential to the vision. Because of this, I’ve already sent word to my people to begin harvesting.” Howland continued, approaching the raised dais as he did so. Unlike with Lord Manderly, the wolves never stirred. 

  Howland placed a box on the table in front of Lyanna. The wood was  a deep mahogany with small silver clasps. “It’s not what one would expect. But I know that you will appreciate it anyway.”

  Lyanna reached for the box and undid the clasp. Inside the box was filled with a type of moss, which, knowing the crannogmen and their ways, was not at all surprising.

  Howland chuckled, clearly having seen the confusion on her face. “As you can see, I’ve gifted you a special type of lichen that only grows in the swamps and bogs of the Neck. You see, rather than cut down trees, we adapted and we use this,” he said, gesturing toward his gift. “As an alternative to fuel. It burns twice as long and just as hot as wood but it grows a hundred times faster than trees. I have already arranged to have ten bushels transported here to Winterfell, and my people will begin harvesting more for when the time comes to enter into northern trade agreements. 

  Rickard was blown away by not only Howlands generosity, but also by the fact that he was so willing to share a secret of his people with not only other Northmen, but with outsiders as a whole. 

  Lyanna was beaming. “Thank you, My Lord, there aren’t enough words for us to express our gratitude to you. This is a fine gift and I am honored that you would share it with not only myself, but with all of our people.”

  Lord Howland blushed at her praise, but bowed and excused himself. The next Lord to approach was Lord Flint  or ‘The Flint’, who also carried a small chest of sorts. 

  “Queen Cousin,” Lord flint greeted, earning a round of laughter from those sober enough to listen.

  “Cousin Torghen,” Lyanna returned fondly. 

  Rickard knew  that the Flints were quite fond of his little she wolf, as she looked much like her grandmother Arya Flint. 

  Torghen Flint was of an age with himself, though he was more than a head shorter than his own six-foot-and-one inches. His hands were thick and meaty and he was as gruff and unpolished as some of the free folk who live beyond the Wall. In fact, many people believe that they are about as closely related to the freefolk as to those of them who were fortunate enough to settle south of the Wall before its construction. His wife even claimed that Bran and Lya inherited their wolfs blood from her mother and father, citing her mother and father's wandering ways. 

  Again, the wolves did not bother to stir when he approached and presented his gift to Lyanna and her mate. “We can’t eat precious stones or metal, so we never bothered with mining them. We care more for the trees to feed our hearths and food enough to feed our people. But there is little we wouldn’t do for our Arya’s granddaughter.” He said with his gruff voice. 

  “We know about your plans for the North, The Rickard, told us all about it, and we want to do our part. Our gift is two parts,” he said, opening the chest to reveal multiple types of precious gems that were freshly mined and unpolished. They ranged in size and color, but Rickard had seen many of them before, in fact, there were quite a number of them adorning the dress Lyanna was currently wearing.

  “Lord Flint,” Lyanna gasped, upon seeing what he had gifted her.

  He didn’t allow her to continue. “Let's make no fuss over this, I have something more to give you.”

  Lyanna nodded, “Alright Cousin, what is the second part?” She asked curiously.

  Torghen pulled out a rolled piece of parchment and the Lords, Norrey and Wull both approached with chests of their own and presented them. 

  Inside the chestPresented by Lord Wull were two different items, the first item was ore, Rickard knew this because House Wull have been known for their superior weaponry, forged from the ore found on their lands. The second was a hard black clump that turned lord Hugo’s hand black. Lord Brandon‘s chest also contained two items. Both of which he was no stranger to. Bronze and Gold. Once they at all presented to Torghen passed over the scroll.

  With a shaky hand, Lyanna reached out and accepted it, unfurling it there and then to read its contents. Rickard couldn’t deny that he was curious about what it said, but he didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

  “On behalf of the mountain clans of Flint, Norrey and Wull, we formally agree to, and give permission for, the mountains to be explored and excavated. All of these minerals and gems can be found within our lands, if there are others, we do not know, but we have brought a sample of what we have found.” Torghen explained. 

  “Thank you all for such thoughtful gifts, and also for your contribution to our people and our land. I have no doubt that these gifts will see us through many winters to come.” Lyanna said. “ Would you be able to tell me about some of these?”

  Torghen stepped up and gestured toward his gift. “There are quite a few different types of stones, but there are a few here that are common enough. The green is Jade, the black Onyx, this deep purple stone is a rare type of Amethyst, the clear one with the light blue tint is unknown but it’s harder than the rest and can cut metal under the right circumstances, there are of course many other types of stones, but I’ll leave it up to you to find someone to identify them and appraise their value.”

  “And these?” She asked, turning her attention to Lord Wull.

  “The first one is ore, mined from our mountains closest to the Bay of Ice. The second is coal, we use it for burning, mostly in our forges.” Lord Hugo explained.

  Lord Brandon Norrey did not wait to be addressed, having worked out for himself that Lyanna was no stranger to either. “Gold and Bronze, the gold is meant to enrich our people, and the bronze, because it is sacred to our Gods. It will also serve us moving forward, because it is more sturdy than aluminum and easier to work with. With bronze also comes copper which has a lower concentration of other alloys.”

  Lyanna listened with avid interest letting each of them know how much she appreciated them, and it showed. “You all have given us so much, I couldn’t possibly express my gratitude adequately enough. Promise you will each meet with myself, my husband and my Lord Father before you depart?”

  “We should be delighted to sit with you ‘Queen Cousin’.” Torghan accepted for the group of them.

  Next came Lord Umber, who gifted the new couple with all of the building materials to restore the Broken Tower, as well as the stonemasons to cut the materials once it was time for the restoration.

  Lord Karstark gifted them with beautiful furs as well as House Mormont who also gave a gift of ivory to the new couple.

  Many gifts were given, but once everyone was done, his good-son stood, drawing the attention of everyone once more.

  “I’m learning so much about Northern customs, yet I’m not sure if there is a tradition here for gift giving between a bride and groom. If we were in the south, this would be done more personally.” Rhaegar said, coming around the table with a long bundle in his hands.

  “Lyanna, of the House Stark. I made a vow to never hold you back, or suppress your inner nature. You bewitched me the very first time I saw you, and every day I am both rewarded by and reminded of how singular you are,” he paused and bent his knee to her in front of the entire Hall. 

  “I wish that I would have beaten Arthur to it, but still, I made you a promise, and now that I can follow through, I mean to do just that. Your Grace, I present to you, one of the two ancestral swords of my House; Darksister. Much like the queen who once wielded her, you are every bit as strong, fearless, loyal and worthy of following in her footsteps.”

  Even though he had yet to fully unwrap the sword Rickard knew that they were only two possible options and there was no doubt which one he had in his hands.

  When it was finally revealed and removed from its sheath his good-son balanced the sword on the tips of his fingers lowered his head and present of the blade to Lyanna.

  “I would also swear to guard your back and keep your counsel, to place nothing or no one above you from this day until the end of my days.” the Silver Prince vowed, shocking the whole of the room. 

  Lyanna stood and raised her husband up from where he was kneeling. “And I swear to you that I should also keep your counsel, to guard your back, and place nothing or anyone above you.” She lifted the blade, presenting it to the room. “Today is a memorable day. Not just because of our union, but because house Targaryen and by extension House Stark, now has Darksister to serve us and our future descendants when war comes to knock upon our doorstep. Mark my words, I will be there, for all of you when that time comes, sword in hand, to fight for our homes, our freedom, and our children.”

  The room went wild, not just because of the sword, the entire exchange was unheard of. A prince—, bending the knee publicly to a woman. A prince, swearing his sword to his own wife… the bards would no doubt be singing about the Dragon Prince and the She Wolf for many generations to come, and the thought warmed his heart. 

  Once all the gifts had been given, the tables were moved aside and the dancing commenced. Rising from his seat, he approached his daughter and extended his hand to her. “Would you do me the honor of dancing with your father?”

  Lyanna took his hand eagerly. “Of course, I would love nothing more, dear father.” She said, rewarding him with a smile. 

  They walked a few paces towards the floor and took their positions, waiting for the music to begin. The tune was a Northern one and soon the two of them were skipping across the hall. 

  “You look so beautiful tonight, my pup. I know your mother would have felt the same.”

  “You’re not allowed to make me cry, I’ll tell Old Nan if you do, and she will find a way to make you pay.” Lyanna said with a mischievous smile. 

  Rickard chuckled, “Mercy, Your Grace.”

  “I’ll let that slide, old man of the North.” She returned. 

  They bantered back and forth throughout their dance until the song ended, and then they made their way back to their seats. Just as Lyanna was about to sit however, Prince Rhaegar stood and Ser Oswell presented him with his harp.

  “I won your heart with a song, and I thought to honor you once more,” said the prince, his voice carrying over the Hall. 

  Everyone quieted once he took his seat, and when the moment was right, he plucked the first string on his harp. Down below the table, Rickard could feel one of the wolves stir. 

 

 

> This is the song of ice,
> 
> This is the song of fire,
> 
> The dice will roll,
> 
> For our hearts desire,
> 
> First the Sun and then the moon,
> 
> Our lightbringers will be coming soon,

  The tune began slowly, Rhaegar’s voice a mere whisper, but the Silver wolf seemed to be quite taken by his lamentation and moved to sit beside him so he could watch him play. 

 

 

> This is the song of loss,
> 
> This is the song of finding,
> 
> Fields and oceans, we’ll cross,
> 
> For our souls are binding,
> 
> The silver dragon, and the winter rose,
> 
> Defeating foes,
> 
> Together, they will face it all,

  Lyanna sat there, still as a statue, watching him as he pulled at the strings of his harp. She was on the edge of her seat, both hands clasped tightly together. Her facial expressions were ever changing. And if this was any indication of how affected she was at the tournament, he could imagine almost vividly, the scene Benjen told him about after he returned.

  Just as Rhaegar began the third verse however, the silver wolf lifted his head, and joined his own song to the song of his good-son, earning a positive reaction from Lya.

 

 

 

> This is the song of winter,
> 
> This is the song of blood,
> 
> Nothing can splinter,
> 
> What we have become,
> 
> The Prince and the Queen,
> 
> No in between,
> 
> Together, they will save the world,
> 
>  
> 
> As fire consumes, Ice preserves,
> 
> The union of both will see justice served,
> 
> Through the darkness light will shine,
> 
> Our destinies now align.

  The final notes were more uplifting than they were at the beginning, and most of those who were there stood on their feet and cheered loudly, but none so loud as his she-pup. Her eyes were damp, but she was absolutely glowing with pride and adoration for her mate. 

  He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, love matches were rare, that Lyanna and the Crowned Prince were marked and betrothed by the Old Gods was next to unheard of these days, but to also find your perfect match in such a manner was rarer still. That two of four of his pups were guaranteed to have love in their marriage was a blessing to be sure. Seeing them like this put his heart at ease. 

  The feast had been going on for a few hours by this point, and Rickard was ready to excuse himself for the night, but he couldn’t do so without calling for the bedding. Although there was no real reason to, his bannermen would no doubt feel cheated. 

  Standing to his feet, the Hall went silent. _Good…_ “If I could have your attention!” He called.

  “I know that many of you are waiting for the Bedding ceremony…” 

  Loud cheers sounded around the room, some of which clearly hadn’t been paying attention and only heard the word _bedding._

 “I regret to inform you all, there will be no bedding ceremony. However, it is past time for the Bride and Groom to be off. If you would join me in bidding them farewell.”

  Without another word, all of his lords and bannermen were on their feet and making an aisle for Lyanna and Rhaegar to walk, stretching from the raised platform, past the double doors of the Great Hall. The wolves all moved into position, ready to escort their Queen back to the First Keep. 

  He didn’t stay much longer, in fact, he was more exhausted than he had been in quite some time. So, after making his goodbyes and excusing himself, he made for his room and prepared for a night of rest. They had much to do in the days and weeks to come, especially for him, as he finally made up his mind and would be going south with Lyanna when they return. 

  His last thoughts before sleep found him were of Lyarra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no... Rhaegar isn’t a warg... but he is partially Blackwood. In fact I think the fact that no one seems to remember this is interesting. 
> 
> Maekar was half Dornish and half Targaryen  
> He married Dyanna Dayne, and their children were therefore not pure blooded.  
> Aegon V married Betha Blackwood, making their children, Martell, Dayne. Targaryen, and Blackwood... yet Blackwood now has the majority share.  
> Jaehaerys and Shaera were brother and sister, therefore their bloodlines remained unchanged. Which means that even though Aerys and Rhaella were brother and sister, they were not 100% blood of the dragon... in fact, at this point, there’s no such thing. Silver hair and purple eyes don’t mean pure blood... 
> 
> Now, as I said, I do not intend to make Rhaegar a warg, but wolves are pack animals and Rhaegar is a part of Lyanna’s pack. Which means that he has the ability to become familiar with them. 
> 
> In this universe there will be no such thing as ownership of familiars... they will be equals not pets. 
> 
> So, if a Direwolf finds himself curious about non Starks... just try to trust me in that there is always a method. 
> 
> Really loved the dark theme with the execution in the Godswood, and the dark wedding with Walys organs and intestines adorning the tree... it’s quite macabre, I know, but it’s unique, and I have yet to see this done in fan fic. I got this inspiration from when Davos was being held inside the Wolfs Den and I really wanted to see the North returning to their true ways. 
> 
> It’s a fluff chapter, I know... but it needed to be done. 
> 
> Make sure you leave me your thoughts, they really do help, especially when you’re pushing 300k words and there’s no end in sight.


End file.
